


Home Is Where the Heart Is (But What A Shame Everyone's Heart Doesn't Beat The Same)

by JCRGirl



Category: Firefly, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCRGirl/pseuds/JCRGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is Captain of the smuggling ship Persephone. Along with his rag-tag crew he flies through the black enjoying the simple freedom that the Alliance can't take from him. He likes the uncomplicated life, until a man boards his ship with a strange crate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious Cargo

**Author's Note:**

> Firefly cross-over. For those who haven't watched Firefly, but think this story sounds interesting: It is basically a space cowboy story - so lots of Southern slang and bad grammar. Earth was abandoned (referred to by people in this story as "earth-that-was) and people fled to other planets. English and Mandarin Chinese are the only languages to survive. Mandarin will be translated in parenthesis. I urge to find copies of this show. I'd never seen it before Imogen asked me about writing this story and now I'm addicted. To those who've watched the show: We've taken Joss Whedon's premise changed a few names (including the ship - She's now the Persephone) and inserted our J2 crew to make it our own. We borrowed ideas from the show but it will not be a J2 retelling. This is an original story. Yes, there will be a ball, but no there won't be a pink dress. Yes, there is a crate, no there are no "hands of blue". Yes, there is the Alliance, no there will not be any Reavers. I hope I don't disappoint you.

_In the beginning was Earth, a beautiful blue and green marble in the dark, star-dotted sky, swarming with life. Over time, as us humans are want to do, we used it up. So we moved on and terraformed us a whole slew of new Earths. The Central Planets, teeming with luxury and technology, got a notion that everyone else should be under their…benevolent rule. So they formed the Alliance and declared war on those stupid enough to disagree, myself among them. I’m Jensen Ackles and I captain this ship. She’s a transport, Firefly class, and flies under the name Persephone. She’s got herself a good crew. A melting pot of outcasts: soldiers, mechanic, pilot. Somewhere along the way we picked us up a preacher and a certified Companion. Every one a heavy mix of brave and crazy and all devotedly loyal to her and each other. Lately we’ve taken on a pair, running from the Alliance, seeking a life without the government looking over their shoulder. We travel the black searching for work, some legal, mostly not. If you got something that needs done, we can do it…if you can pay._

 

 

Jensen will maintain until his dying day that it was all Alona’s fault. It has been said that the male of the species had the tendency to think with something other than their good sense, but Jensen wanted it known that the fairer sex sometimes reasoned with their nether regions as well. All it had taken was a shock of dark hair, a set of light brown eyes and a crooked smile in Alona’s direction and Jensen’s life would never be the same.

“Cap’n, come welcome the new passenger. He’s all settled in. Just waitin’ to meet you,” Alona cupped his elbow and guided him to the far wall of the cargo bay and their newest fare. “This here,” Alona’s quick intake of breath made Jensen look down at her, “is Milo Padalecki.”  Her face lit up as she introduced the newcomer, beaming a bright smile. 

 “Jensen Ackles. Welcome aboard,” Jensen shook Milo’s hand, wondering if he was going to have any trouble. Alona was like a sister to him and he wouldn’t put up with anyone hurting her. The guy was a few years younger than Jensen. Tall and reasonably good looking, but guarded. His eyes held a wariness that Jensen had seen during the war.  His clothes spoke of Core wealth, but his hands belied any notions this man led an aristocratic life. The younger man opened his mouth to respond when a heavy crash sounded from the end of the bay where the cargo was being stacked by a broad, long-haired man. 

“Hún dàn!” (Bastard!) Jensen’s attention snapped back to Milo as the curse fell sharp and hard. Milo hurried to the fallen crate and inspected the side, “Try to be careful you ox.”

Chris, former mercenary and loose cannon, regarded the man with surprise that quickly morphed into anger. “Accident, man. The hover lift shorted. It ain’t a big deal.”

Jensen hurriedly approached. So far Chris had said three times as much as would normally upset folk and he needed to diffuse the situation before his luck ran out. “Machines can be squirrely sometimes,” he smiled charmingly, “you wanna check it and make sure nuthin’ shifted?”

Milo continued to smooth his hand over the crate, checking each joint for separation and each side for cracks. At Jensen’s question, he snapped his head up. “No! I mean, no. I’m sure everything’s in order. I apologize for overreacting, Captain Ackles.” He held out his hand to Chris who viewed it with a sneer. “Milo Padalecki.”

“Chris Kane,” Chris growled, taking the proffered hand. Jensen rolled his eyes when it appeared that Chris was trying to break Milo’s hand.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Jensen slapped Chris on the back. “Why don’t you gently finish here, Chris, while our guest gets freshened up.”

Milo made his way to the scaffolded stairs that led to the upper deck where the passenger accommodations were housed. His eyes continuously flicked back to the crate that Chris was making a show of being careful with.

 

*****

 

Meals were one of the few times the ship’s entire compliment was together, and at dinner that night, Jensen took the opportunity to introduce Milo to the rest of Persephone’s crew. “Everyone, this is Milo Padalecki. He’ll be with us until we reach Ariel. Milo, this is my crew.” He gestured at the gathered people, naming them as he went.  A shapely blonde: “Annie Palicki, my second in command.” The broad man he’d yelled at earlier in the cargo bay: “Chris Kane, who you’ve you already had the pleasure of meeting.” A man with blonde hair that fell to his shoulders in lazy curls: “his better half and our pilot, Steve Carlson.” A dark haired man with piercing blue eyes: “our resident shepherd, Misha, who has the fool notion he can guide us band of sinners to righteousness.” A demure dark haired woman wearing a long velvet robe, fringed at the cuffs: “Sophia, here, is a bona fide companion. People tend to be more accepting of us knowing she’s on board.” And, finally, he motioned to the petite blonde with the bubbly smile: “and I assume you remember Alona. Currently have an opening for a doc if you know anybody who’d be interested.”

“And don’t expect a regular paycheck,” Chris groused.

Jensen ignored him, continuing his welcome, “We’re a friendly crew and she’s a good ship. Treat us and her right and you’ll receive the same in kind. You’re welcome in any of the areas below deck, but the bridge, engine room and cargo bay are off-limits. Those areas can be perilous and it wouldn’t do for you to get hurt.”

“But I have things in the cargo bay that I’ll need during the voyage,” Milo protested, his face paling.

“After supper, we’ll go down to the cargo bay and get the things you’ll need,” Jensen nodded judiciously, taking the bowl Annie passed him and scooping a helping on his plate.

Milo nodded his head in reluctant agreement then turned to the crew. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Jensen watched as Milo greeted everyone, the young man’s eyes shrewdly cataloguing each person before moving on to the next and Jensen was once again reminded of his Browncoat days. Kid was too young to know the horror of that war. Jensen himself was barely of age and had lied to make up the difference, but Milo had a look about him that plainly said he’d seen more than most. Milo was cagey and that made Jensen uneasy. In his experience, cagey people were usually running, either from something bad or something worse and those were two things Jensen didn’t need right now. Behind the false panel on the starboard side of the cargo hold were two crates of guns they’d _liberated_ from the Alliance outpost on Tarsus, safe and snug and awaiting delivery to Quinto. It was more than Jensen was worth to be in debt to that ruthless bastard, so being boarded and searched by the Alliance looking for a fugitive was not high up on Jensen’s list of favorite things. From the corner of his eye, Jensen could see Annie considering their newest passenger as well and he knew she was of a similar mind. They’d watch him and the first sign of trouble, they’d leave him on the closest planet.

“She’s a beautiful ship, Sarge,” Milo looked around at the eclectic interior of the ship, “Had her long?”

Jensen’s body tensed and he saw Annie shoot him a surprised look. “Guess I need some more R&R if I look old enough to have fought in the war, let alone been a sergeant,” Jensen chuckled casually, leaning back in his chair and resting his left arm on the table. “What makes you think I served?”  It wasn’t like the kid was wrong. Hell, if anything, he was a little too spot-on for comfort.

Milo blanched and his placid expression fell for a moment before he snapped it back into place. He shrugged, twisting his lips into a charming grin that looked as painful for him to make as it was for Jensen to witness. “Just a guess.”

“You missed your calling. With those kinda instincts you’d be real good at the street fairs on Dalin as one of them weight or age guessers,” Alona smiled, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and dreamy look on her face.

“Or as an Alliance profiler,” Annie added, giving Jensen a pointed look.

Chris sat up in his chair and Alona lifted her head, eyes dancing around the table. She laughed nervously at the sudden tension in the air, “He’s not one of them.” She turned an uncertain gaze to the young man next to her, smile faltering. “You’re not, are you?”

Milo leaned back mirroring Jensen’s posture at the end of the table, an easy smile that seemed so out of place ghosting over his lips. His muscles had tightened at the mention of the Alliance, the change so slight that Jensen was sure that no one other than him and Annie had noticed. “Not a barker or a bastard. Just a tailor.”

“I’ve been anxious to see the new fashions on Ariel,” Sophia said softly, the atmosphere changing deftly with the topic, her skills as a Companion settling the uneasiness. “I heard the styles this year are some of the best in nearly a decade. Are you visiting there to get new ideas?”

 “Actually, no,” Milo’s voice was less edgy, but his body didn’t relax, “I’m going to Ariel to meet my fiancé. His parents don’t approve of us being together so we have decided to run away and start a new life on another world.”

“Oh,” Alona mumbled, her face crestfallen, “that’s – that’s wonderful.”

“Yes, it is, and romantic,” Misha added. He’d been quiet so far, taking in the stranger in that calm manner that came so naturally to him.

 “Must be one sweet piece of ass for you to give up everything for him,” Chris whistled, shaking his head. “Bet he’s a little wildcat in bed. Is he kinky?” He leaned forward stage whispering the last question. Steve’s elbow caught him hard in the ribs and he grunted. 

The change wasn’t subtle this time, Milo’s face hardened immediately, all pretense dropped and Jensen prepared for a fight. “Don’t speak about my br-bethrothed that way or I’ll cut out your tongue!” Barely controlled rage reverberated in his voice with each measured word.

“Chris,” Jensen looked stonily at the renegade, his peripheral focused on the angry newcomer, fingers of his right hand rubbing slowly against his thigh, “your mouth is moving, see to that.”

“Hey, now,” Chris put his hands up, “I didn’t mean no disrespect. There’s no call for him to be so riled up. Just never heard of anyone willing to walk away from their life for nothing. Figured this fiancé of his must do some pretty interesting shit.” Then as if unable to help himself, Chris’s face took on an excited look, “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Hun dan!” (Bastard!) Milo moved faster than Jensen thought humanly possible, jumping across the food-laden table to lunge at Chris, and it was only because of the sheer girth of the table that Misha was able to grab him before he landed a punch.

Jensen stood shocked. He’d barely gotten to his feet and Milo was all the way across the table. He moved over to insinuate himself between a fairly agitated Chris and Misha, who was struggling to restrain a furious Milo, his outstretched arms maintaining six feet of neutral space between the feuding factions.  He stared pointedly at Chris, his gaze warning him to, for once, keep hisshă zì (idiot)mouth shut. “Walk away from the table, Chris,” Jensen kept his voice even and calm but the order was unmistakable. 

Chris balked, “What? Cap’n!”

“Walk away from the table or I _will walk you_ away from it,” Jensen growled through gritted teeth.

 “Chris, come on,” Steve urged, tugging on his lover’s arm when it appeared Chris wanted to continue defending his words, “I think you talked yourself into enough trouble for one sitting.”

Jensen watched Steve escort his husband from the room, not dropping his extended arms until the couple was out of sight. Turning to their new passenger, he fixed the most apologetic expression he could muster on his face. “You’ll have to forgive him. Chris’s mouth is partial to running off without consulting his brain. Great to have around when there’s heavy lifting needing to be done, not so much with the social graces. I assure you he’ll mind his manners for the rest of your trip.” _Or I’ll sew is goram (goddamn) lips shut_ , Jensen added in his mind.

“Yeah,” Milo replied disbelievingly, eyes trained in the direction Steve and Chris had gone, “you see that he does.”

“How about we all sit down and try to enjoy the rest of this wonderful meal that Alona made for us,” Misha patted Milo on the chest. “At least what was spared from Milo’s clothes,” he frowned at the stained splotches on the young man’s shirt and the upturned dishes on the table.

“Good idea, preacher,” Jensen smiled, warily watching as everyone resettled into their seats to salvage the remainder of the meal. His right hand rested again on his thigh, his thumb carefully resituating the leather thong on his gun holster around the hammer.

 

*****

 

Milo slid the door to his room open and slipped into the hallway. He’d always hated space travel, the cold and the silence too reminiscent of a grave to be any comfort to him. He padded quietly on bare feet down the corridors and across the catwalks over the cargo hold, wincing as the grids dug into the soles of his feet. At the bottom of the stairs, he squinted to peer through the darkened space for his crate, sighing when he found it set off to the left side. With a few efficient strokes he checked the read-outs and dials, holding his breath that that clumsy oaf hadn’t done damage. Pressing his thumb to the scanner, the red light on the display turned green and the lid released with a vacuous hiss, a cold fog creeping and slithering over the sides of the container and chilling his skin. A pale blue light emanated from inside and cast a deathly pallor over his face as he lifted the lid to see into the depths.

“Hold it right there.”

Milo froze as the entire bay was flooded in light, trying to blink away the temporary blindness and assess his situation. Chris and Steve were on the scaffolding overhead, positioned at opposing corners, armed with weapons trained at him and steely resolve. He could just make out Misha near the entrance of what Milo believed was Sophia’s privately rented shuttlecraft, the holy man blocking Alona and Sophia from any direct line of fire. Annie was on the loading bay floor near the control console, her gun held deceptively casual at hip level.  The captain stood on the stair landing, elbows leaning against the railing and gun aimed at Milo’s chest. Milo slowly stood, his eyes darting to the inside of the crate then to each of his captors. He was outmanned and outgunned.

Jensen read each emotion that flitted across Milo’s face: fear, protectiveness, anger, calculation and finally reluctant resignation.  “How’s about you open up the lid nice and easy and let’s have a looksee what’s got you so twitchy you came down here in the dead of night to check?”

For a moment Jensen thought Milo was going to refuse and he sured his grip, but, after a slight hesitation, Milo lifted the lid to reveal an unconscious man lying in the fetal position. 

“Is that,” Annie lifted to her toes for a better look, “Is there a person in there?”

Jensen’s anger flared and he quickly descended the stairs to come up beside his passenger. “Is he a slave? I don’t care how much money you have, Mr. Padalecki, we don’t abide by trafficking human slaves on this ship.”

“He’s not a slave,” Milo defended angrily, “He’s my…”

A low moan stopped their conversation, Milo’s full attention on the man in the container. He leaned over the side and brushed a hand across the man’s head, getting a whimper in response.

“Fen? Fen, can you hear me? It’s okay. I’m here,” Milo soothed. 

_Fen_? Jensen’s eyes fell to the phoenix tattoo on Milo’s right shoulder and quirked an eyebrow.

A low groan and the man began to uncurl himself, stretching his cramped limbs. Jensen’s eyes widened at the length being revealed.  The man had to be tall, taller than Jensen. “Chris, get down here. Let’s get this guy out of this thing.”

Milo growled over his shoulder. “I’ve got him. I don’t need your help.” Turning his attention back to the man, he cooed, “Okay, let’s get you out. Can you try to stand?”

Muddy hazel eyes gazed out from behind a curtain of bangs and locked on Milo. Nodding, the guy pushed up from the bottom and stood, legs unsteady and threatening to buckle, like the colts Jensen had seen as a child on his momma’s farm. Milo easily reached over the side and picked the guy up bridal style and set him on the hangar floor, shielding him from curious eyes with his body. The man whimpered at the feel of the cold metal against his skin and shivered violently. 

Annie walked up with a blanket and handed it to Milo, exchanging a disbelieving look with Jensen.  Once the man was bundled and the deep quaking had subsided to slight tremors, Jensen cleared his throat. “You wanna finish explaining why you were transporting a slave on my ship without telling me?”

“Quit calling him that! He’s not a slave,” Milo snarled, shifting the man to lean against the crate. He stood and met Jensen’s gaze head on, “This is my husband, Jared.”

Chris whistled from his perch as he got his first good look at the man. Looking at Steve, he smirked, “You looked like that I’d keep you in a box too.”

Jensen clenched his jaw, glad to hear the grunt of Chris getting another elbow to the ribs. “Yeah,” Jensen said disbelievingly to Milo, “Forgive me, but I don’t right believe you. I’ve seen some bad unions in my time, disgruntled husbands and wives, but I ain’t never seen anyone travel with their loved one in a container.” Jensen kneeled down next to the pale, trembling man. “Jared?” Those cloudy slanted eyes slowly looked his way. “Is that your name?”

There was a long pause where the guy just blinked at Jensen before his head moved in a small nod. “J-Jar-ed,” he mumbled.

“Good.” Jensen looked the man over, suppressing the odd desire to gather him in his arms. “Jared?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Do you know who this is?” Jensen pointed toward Milo.

Eyes following Jensen’s arm, Jared rolled his head to see Milo kneeling beside him on the other side. He smiled and sighed, “My Milo.”

“Satisfied?” Milo spat.

“For now,” Jensen answered, still considering the semi-lucid man on the floor. “We’ll talk about this more later. Get him to the med bay. He’s not looking so hot.” As the words passed his lips, Jared retched and vomited on the floor at Jensen’s feet, splashing bile on his shoes.

“Aye, aye Captain,” Milo smirked, scooping Jared up and carrying him toward the infirmary.

Jensen frowned at his soiled shoes, shaking them from side to side and slinging droplets of vomitus on the floor. Annie came up beside him, carefully side-stepping the mess. Looking up at the retreating back of their enigmatic passenger and his cryogenic spouse, Jensen’s frown deepened.

“Contact Mr. Universe and see what he can tell us about the newlyweds.”

 


	2. The Great and Powerful Mr. Universe

Jensen hurried down the stairs toward the Infirmary, stopping at the bottom with a frown on his face. The members of his crew, save Annie who was currently trying to contact Mr. Universe, were gathered around the medical bay, looking through large glass windows at the inhabitants inside. Coming up behind Alona, he cupped his hands over her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head. Milo had placed Jared on the small built-in bed set waist high in the back wall. The young man was covered in a thin blanket and Jensen could see it vibrating from the shivers coursing through the body curled up underneath it. Jared tracked Milo’s movements as he bustled around the room, gathering supplies from the cabinets and drawers.

“He looks so…” Alona’s pretty features scrunched as she searched for the right word.

“Sexy?” Chris helpfully supplied. At her head shake, he offered more suggestions. “Delicious? Mouth-watering?” 

“You make him sound like a steak,” Steve nudged his husband with his shoulder.

Chris shrugged, nonplussed. “Looks good enough to eat. You see that ass? Just wanna sink my choppers into…”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be sleeping in the cargo hold for the next month,” Steve scowled.

Jensen frowned when Milo, who’d been considering Jared with a look that was equal parts devotion and adoration, snapped wild, dangerous eyes in Chris’ direction, the changing of moods startling in its quickness.  Body tense and poised for defense, Milo assessed an oblivious Chris, shifting slightly to place his body between the crude man and the subject of his objectification. 

“Ooh, hubby is possessive,” Chris smirked at Milo’s outraged expression, apparently not as oblivious as Jensen had thought. “Bet they _are_ wildcats in bed together.  Jared looks like the type who needs a firm hand and Milo strikes me as the kind to keep the reins tight. Be strict, punishin’ him when he’s bad, spanking that sweet ass cherry red, making Jared beg for more.” Chris licked his lips, eyes glassy, lost in his own imaginings.

“Chris, enough!” Steve’s tone was exasperated and Jensen knew that he’d reached his limit with his husband. Steve was an understanding man, he’d have to be in order to stay married to Chris, but even he could take only so much of the man he loved lusting after another.

A snarl erupted from the Infirmary before Steve’s voice had finished echoing in the common area. Jensen turned to see Milo stalk through the doorway, eyes burning with rage. He seized Chris by the front of his t-shirt and spun him, shoving him harshly against the glass window.  “You don’t ever talk about him like that again or I swear I’ll end you with my bare hands.”

Jensen could understand Milo not taking kindly to Chris’ comments, his own protective nature finding exception with the man’s words, but he couldn’t allow this to continue. He moved out from behind Alona, shielding her from the quarreling men with his larger frame.  “Milo unhand him or I’ll be forced to put you in irons.”

“Didn’t you hear what this yuánsaid about Jared?!” Milo hissed, one of his forearms coming up to press against Chris’ Adam’s apple.

“I did and I will deal with it. I am the captain of this ship and I decide how to handle her crew. Now, unhand him.” Jensen infused as much authority as he could into his voice, the tone brooking no argument.  

Milo’s brow furrowed in thought, rebellion on the tip of his tongue and in the front of his mind. He jerked when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Son, let the man go. You’re upsetting Jared.” Misha’s eyes were sympathetic, his chin tilting toward the window where Jared could be seen inside the med bay. Jared was huddled in the corner of the bed, rocking back and forth with his knees curled up to his chest and eyes wide with fear. 

Milo’s gaze moved past the man pinned in front of him to see through the window, his face softening at the sight of Jared. Fingers uncurled from Chris’ shirt and Milo walked back into the med bay, cooing soothing words at Jared in an attempt to straighten the man from the tight ball he’d made himself into.

“Steve, do you mind taking your husband for a walk and quite possibly a cold shower. It would be best if I don’t have to share his company for a while. Then Annie could use your help up on the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain. Come on.” Steve clapped Chris on the shoulder, “Before you start anymore trouble.”

Chris turned around and faced his husband with innocent, betrayed eyes. “Just because that xīnlǐ can’t handle a couple of comments,” he protested as Steve pushed him up the stairs and out of sight.

Jensen scrubbed a palm over his face, sparing a moment to wonder why he even kept Chris on board until he remembered that Steve was the best pilot in the verse and unfortunately the pair was a set.  He dropped his hand and noticed Alona hovering in one of the darkened recesses of the room, watching as Jared gradually unfurled his long body to once again lie on the bed. Jensen stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in another embrace.

“Scared,” Alona said, quietly, “I was gonna say he looks so scared.”

Jensen nodded his agreement, his stubbled chin catching in her silky locks and shifting them. His arms tightened around her petite form and his expression hardened when Milo fixed her with an unreadable look. It was as if Milo’d been offended by what she’d said though Jensen wasn’t sure it was possible for him to hear her soft voice across the distance that spanned them.

“Do we have any idea what’s wrong with the boy?” Misha came up beside them, studying the two passengers inside.

“Don’t have the foggiest,” Jensen answered honestly. “He looks healthy enough, but it seems his mind wanders off on him.”

Alona shook her head. “Could be from being crated. That shipping unit was designed for freeze-dried goods, not people. Coulda done something squirrelly to his brain.”

“Let’s not forget that he must have been doped to even allow himself to be shoved in that thing,” Jensen added.

Misha shook his head and Jensen could see him holding back the urge to rush to Jared’s side to offer comfort. The shepherd sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I’ll retire for the evening. I don’t see us getting much in the way of answers tonight. “ He nodded his head and made his way down the hallway that led to his room in the passenger section of the ship. 

Alona shifted, her head ducking out from under Jensen’s so she could look him in the eye. “You’re gonna make sure he’s okay, right?” Her gaze flicked back to Jared when a whimper floated out to them from the open Infirmary doors. “If Milo is hurtin’ him or forcin’ him into…anything, you’ll help him?” She looked at him again, her expression open and pleading, eyes wide with trust in him and wet with worry for Jared.

“Ain’t nothing bad going to happen to him as long as I’m here,” he assured her, the words feeling heavier than the platitude they were meant to be.  Squeezing her shoulders comfortingly, he patted one lightly. “I need you back down in the Engine Room.  We can’t re-fuel until we make our delivery so this run’s gonna be tight. I need you to take a look and see what can be pared back, every drop’s gotta count.”

“Yes, Cap’n.” She bit her lip and hesitated for a minute, staring once again at the young man on the bed. Nodding, she smiled at Jensen and headed toward the heart of the ship.

Jensen stepped closer to the glass; arms folded over his chest, and watched the men inside. Something seemed off about them, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. A presence came up beside him, the subtle scent of lilacs – or what Jensen assumed lilacs smelt like having never seen one before – identifying the person as Sophia.

Inside, Milo approached Jared cautiously with a liquid filled syringe in one hand and the other held out in a placating gesture. Jared’s eyes widened in fear, the slight shaking deepened into body-wracking tremors as he trembled at the sight of the needle. He scooted further back on the bed, the wall behind him preventing any possible escape and intensifying the haze of terror clouding his eyes. His head moved back and forth, a litany of _nononono_ falling wordlessly from his quivering lips as tears collected in the lashes of his lower lids.

“Sshhh, Fen. You’re okay, now. This will make you feel better,” Milo cooed, grabbing Jared’s bicep in a sure, firm grip and gently pushing the needle into the muscle. Removing the syringe, his thumb rubbed soothing arcs over the point of penetration as he kept up a constant stream of consoling words and noises.

Jensen watched as Jared’s eyes drooped, eyelids raising and lowering languidly until they fell to rest and didn’t open again. The worry slid off Jared’s face as he slipped into sleep, his features lax and body finally peaceful.

“You know Milo’s being less than truthful, right?” Sophia’s soft voice startled him, having forgotten she was still there.

“Pretty sure Mr. Padalecki there and the truth parted ways a while back. His tongue’s so forked he lisps when he talks.” Jensen ran a hand over his face, fingers threading through his short-cropped hair, “For the record, which part were you referrin’ to specifically?”

“They’re not engaged,” she motioned with her chin to indicate the two men. Milo was tugging the blanket up higher over Jared’s shoulders, an affectionate look as he gazed down on the sleeping man.

“Didn’t realize that your _training_ made you an expert on relationships,” Jensen scoffed, his eyes never wavering from Jared.

“My _training_ ,” Sophia bristled at the derision in Jensen’s tone, “makes me an expert on people and their interactions with one another. There is a bond there, but it’s not betrothal.” The argument over her life was an old one, the insults and back-handed comments an integral part of their banter. Most times, she consoled herself with the idea that Jensen’s hurtful words were inspired by how much he cared for her. Since her arrival on Persephone, she and the captain had fallen into a familial bond. Him, the worried brother voicing his disdain at her being a member of the verse’s oldest profession, and her, the bratty sister snarking at him for participating in the verse’s second oldest. But there were also the rare moments when she thought he was just being a judgmental ass. She eyed Jensen speculatively, “My training also makes me adept at detecting attraction.” She raised an eyebrow at his confused look. “You like that boy,” she clarified, looking pointedly at Jared.

Jensen chuckled, “You might want to go back to the Academy for a refresher, sweetheart. I think your attraction sensor is a might faulty.”

“Whatever helps you to sleep at night, Jen,” she patted his arm then disappeared in the direction of her shuttle.

Jensen nodded absently, eyes following Milo puttering around the room, wondering what else the young man was keeping to himself.

 

*****

 

Jensen lay in his bunk trying to quiet his noisy mind. Milo Padalecki and his…Jared. Sophia’s declaration only confirmed his suspicions and he couldn’t help but wonder what Milo wanted with the other man. Bond or no, Jensen refused to allow Jared to blindingly trust someone who meant him harm. 

Thumping his pillow, he turned over on his side to face the wall. The faint glow of the comm console dimly illuminated the space in a warm crimson light that he normally found comforting, but now only served to irritate him. Closing his eyes and willing his body to sleep, images of Jared – gazing up at him with cloudy, disoriented eyes; smiling fondly at Milo – danced unbidden across his mind. Huffing out a breath, he mildly cursed Sophia. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, replaying his conversation with Mr. Universe.

_Jensen leaned over the main console, looking at the blank display screen waiting for Steve to secure the connection. Mr. Universe was an elusive son-of-a-bitch. His ability to weave in and out of the Cortex mainframe like a sidewinder through sagebrush often left him on the wrong side of right in the opinion of The Alliance and he’d made a career out of evading them. Though a trained pilot, he’d never taken an official side during the rebellion; however, his anti-Alliance opinions were no secret to either faction. He’d supplied the Browncoats with several pieces of information that allowed them to continue the resistance as long as they had, fighting for the cause through cyber intelligence rather than weaponry. Unfortunately, once the dust settled, the Alliance wasn’t in too forgiving of a mood and he’d become the longest standing member of the Alliance’s most wanted list. After several too close for comfort calls, he hermitted himself away. He stayed on the fringes of society, only imparting those he trusted with his contact information and location. Jensen believed the man genuinely liked him and they shared a good rapport, but he hadn’t made it past the vetting process to become one of the inner circle yet. Lucky for him someone on his crew had._

_Grainy static filled the small screen before the image resolved to reveal a man with tousled, curly hair, dark eyes and a two day scruff shadowing his jaw. The room around him was an eerie blue, the incandescent glow from what Jensen knew was a wall of monitors that kept the enigmatic man’s fingers on the electronic pulse of the Core worlds. Behind him was a shirtless man with a physique that would be the envy of many a man, propped against a long couch in an awkward lean. His features were strong and handsome with a hint of boyish youthfulness, the slight sheen of plasticene reflected in the azure light belying his deceptively human countenance._

_“Gabe, my man,” Steve crowed from Jensen’s left, “How’s the informational world treating you?”_

_“_ Mr. Universe,” _the man corrected, looking down and tapping at his keyboard._

_“Hey, we’ve been friends since flight school,” Steve laughed at the man’s indignation, “I know where all the virtual bodies are buried. So, to me, you’ll always be Gabe Tigerman.” He and Mr. Universe met in flight school after Steve discovered the only reason the other man had the highest grades attainable had more to do with his adept knowledge of the school’s software than his understanding of nav thrust propulsion. An easy friendship of mutual beneficence ensued – Steve kept his mouth shut in exchange for information. Their friendship only grew once they’d graduated and Jensen believed that Steve was maybe Mr. Universe’s oldest friend. Jutting his chin in the direction of the inelegantly inclined man, Steve smirked, “Looks like you and Matt are enjoying wedded bliss. How’s it feel to be a married man?”_

_Jensen was able to control his eye roll until Mr. Universe turned to look lovingly behind him. Steve always had this ability to see the bright side of every situation, that one shiny thing that made everything all right, a talent that probably kept him from killing Chris in his sleep. Jensen’d never understood the appeal of lovebots, companions you could program into the perfect partner. They never argued or complained or nagged, their reactions as artificial as their love.  He supposed for someone as cut off and secluded as Mr. Universe, it made perfect sense. Matt was loyal and trustworthy, incapable of betrayal or subterfuge because he wasn’t programmed that way._

_Mr. Universe spun back around to face them, “It’s been perfect. Over a year and we’re still in the honeymoon phase. Breakfast in bed, massages, but the best part, Steve,” he quirked a mischievous eyebrow before waggling it, “is the sex. Matt’s a kinky little minx. Aren’t you, baby?” He cooed over his shoulder, the lovebot turning its head in the direction of Mr. Universe’s voice. Looking back at the monitor with a leer, he stage-whispered, “He’s really flexible, just twists himself into any position I can think of. And when he’s riding me, let me tell you, it’s a thing of beauty.”_

_“That’s nice and all,” Jensen interrupted, feeling the need for a bar of soap and a good scrubbing “and I’d love to catch up some more, but I have an issue that needs tending to and I was hoping you could help us.”_

_Mr. Universe’s attention transferred from his old friend to Jensen. “Jenny! It’s been a while.” Eyes flicking back teasingly to the Persephone’s pilot, he added rhetorically, “Steve, you still flying with this crusty ole Browncoat? Surely, my escapades can’t be embarrassing you. I heard about that time with the bordello on Belios III. Rumor in the signal is that they had to get a whole new crew of working boys after that because the ones they had swore they could never be satisfied again after a night with the illustrious Captain Ackles.”_

_Jensen rubbed the back of his neck, heat pinking the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “That was a long time ago.”_

_“Isn’t that how all the legends from Earth –That –Was start? A long time ago…”_

_“So, you think you’ll be able to help us?” Jensen smoothly tried to direct the conversation away from any more of his embarrassing exploits and back to the matter at hand._

_Smirking like he’d won something, Mr. Universe sat back in his chair. “Always happy to help the crew of the Persephone. What can I do for you now?”_

_“Picked up a passenger recently and I’m not getting any warm fuzzy vibes. Was wondering if you could nose around and see what you could find out about him?”_

_“This passenger got a name?” Mr. Universe sat up and swiveled in his chair, pulling a keyboard closer._

_“Here,” Annie nudged Jensen’s arm, handing him the copy of the contract Milo signed when he paid for passage._

_“Is that Adrienne?” Mr. Universe’s eyebrows shot up and a lascivious smirk curled his lips. “If I wasn’t a married man…”_

_“The loss is mine,” Annie winked._

_Jensen cleared his throat. “Milo Padalecki,” he enunciated clearly, once again drawing the conversation back to the current topic. “P-A-D-A-L-E-C-K-I.”_

_“Right,” Mr. Universe nodded, fingers flying over the keys._

_Jensen shot Annie a look from the corner of his eye. He’d seen her shoot people for fewer offenses than calling her by her full given name. Adrienne was what her mother had called her and she carefully safeguarded who she allowed to address her by it. The vetting process for that privilege was almost more stringent than the one to learn Mr. Universe’s location. Jensen could count on one hand – with fingers left over – the number of people who’d called her Adrienne and lived. He was fortunate enough to be considered the minority, but did sport a nasty scar on his knee for the attempt._

_“Nothing,” Mr. Universe said definitively, the clacking of the keys ending abruptly._

_“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” Jensen looked at Steve for help. “What does he mean?”_

_“I mean there’s nothing on Milo Padalecki. According to the Cortex he doesn’t exist.”_

_“It’s an alias,” Annie’s face was grim, “Only people up to no good need a fake identity.”_

_“That’s comforting,” Steve mumbled._

_“My sweet Adrienne,” Mr. Universe purred, “not everyone with a secret identity is bad. Take me for example or consider how many names you have under that ruggedly tantalizing belt of yours?”_

_Jensen noticed Matt’s eyes narrow, the blue pupils glowing at his husband’s flirting words. Maybe there was more to lovebots than Jensen originally thought._

_“Yes, but we aim to misbehave,” Annie unconsciously adjusted the buckle on her belt._

_Jensen rubbed a hand down his face. “This guy has lied to us from the word go. If he’s up to no good, I’d like to know before I have Alliance soldiers tickling the hairs on our necks.”_

_Mr. Universe considered him for a moment, “People lie to you all the time Jenny. It’s a bartering trade in your line of work as much as your smuggled goods. So I have to wonder why this guy bothers your heretofore non-existent sensibilities so much. If you don’t trust him then shoot him,” he shrugged as if he didn’t just advise Jensen to take a man’s life. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”_

_Jensen fought not to fidget. He could feel Steve and Annie’s eyes on him, waiting for his answer and he really didn’t have one. It wasn’t so much Milo that concerned him, it was Jared. Something was off about Milo and the way he was with Jared, something that niggled Jensen to no end. “He smuggled a person, Jared, on my ship…in a crate. He says that they’re engaged, but something about trussing up your loved one like common inventory don’t set right. I think he means Jared harm and I’d lose sleep at night if I didn’t try to stop it and I hate losing sleep.”_

_Mr. Universe sighed, dark eyes on Jensen in a calculating look.  “Let me see what I can find.”_

 Gritting his teeth in frustration, Jensen flung the covers back and sat up. Without really meaning to, Jensen found himself once again outside of the Infirmary. He could hear the low hum of Persephone’s engine through the floor overhead, creating a peaceful background noise that went unnoticed when her crew was awake and going about their business. 

Jared was exactly where Jensen had last seen him, not appearing to have moved an inch since Milo doped him earlier. In the soft lit hue of the sleep dark ship, he seemed younger and more innocent than he had in the cargo hold. And Alona was right, even in his sleep, Jared looked scared, a constant apprehension that followed him into unconsciousness. Like a dog that’s been kicked its whole life and now knows nothing but fear.

Milo was asleep on one of the couches just outside the med bay in the common area, dark circles underlining eyes that continually roved behind closed lids. A blanket was draped over him, guarding him from the chill, and Jensen marveled how Alona’s kindness could overweigh her distrust. He hoped one day that trait didn’t lead her into trouble.

Turning back to look through the window of the Infirmary again, he startled at wide hazel eyes staring unblinkingly at him from beneath tousled chestnut hair. The door to the med bay was open, more than likely so Milo could hear if Jared needed him, and Jensen quietly slipped into the room. He curled his lips into his most disarming smile and carefully approached Jared’s bedside. Those hazel eyes watched him the whole way, much like they had Milo earlier when he was moving around the Infirmary, following his every step and barely blinking.

“Jared,” he spoke softly, ignoring how Jared shrunk back at the nearness of his presence, “do you remember me from earlier? We met down in the cargo hold?”

Jared hesitated for a minute, assessing Jensen with those wary, frightened, unblinking eyes, and nodded slowly.

Jensen smiled again, trying to allay the young man’s fears. “My name is Jensen Ackles. This here is Persephone,” he ran a loving hand over the ship, “and I’m her Captain.”

Jared’s eyes widened and he sat up suddenly, tossing the blanket back from his body, heedless of his nudity. He slid from the bed in a graceful, sinewy movement that Jensen wouldn’t have thought possible for someone Jared’s size and knelt on the floor at Jensen’s feet, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. He stared at Jared for a moment, his mind whirling through a myriad of emotions – confusion at Jared’s reaction, arousal at the sight of the naked man on his knees before him then finally settling on horror at what that position intimated. For Jared to not be a slave as Milo claimed, he’d been skillfully trained in the art of submission.  

“Come on, Jared,” he pushed as much amusement into his voice as he could, trying to play off the disturbing – and affecting – sight of Jared on the floor in such supplication, “I know I’m gorgeous but there’s no reason to throw yourself at my feet.”

Jensen stepped closer to Jared, arm out to help the young boy from the floor and was surprised when Jared started to shake at the sight of his raised hand. The image of a kicked puppy flashed before Jensen’s mind and he quickly withdrew his arm.

“Jared,” he began, crouching down to try and catch the young man’s gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you, but I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you, if you won’t talk to me.” His pleas halted when those hazel eyes were back on him. He could see wariness warring with hope in the blue-green depths, Jared wanting to believe Jensen’s kindness yet experience teaching him not to trust it.

His eyes roved over Jared’s body, desperately seeking a way to get the frightened man from the floor, pausing on a long, thin, shiny scar along Jared’s flank. Jensen’s blood boiled and his vision clouded over with red tinted rage. He’d seen a scar like that once before, back on his momma’s ranch. Hayes was helping wrangle the horses into the corral and got tangled up in Riley’s whip. The lash had cut deep and it was only because of Doc Warren’s tireless work and close proximity that Hayes survived. He rose up, stooping over the young man, and cupped Jared’s elbows with his hands, his gentle urging of the boy to stand, completely at odds with the need for violence trying to consume him. 

“Get away from him!” Milo’s shout rent the air and Jensen instinctively let go of Jared’s arms, the boy’s head bowing again at the loss of contact. Milo stormed into the room, his face the perfect depiction of how Jensen felt inside. He hurried to Jared and squatted in front of him, head dipping low to peer at the kneeling man’s eyes. When Jared refused to lift his gaze from the floor, Milo spun toward Jensen with a look of seething hate. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Jensen replied harshly, tempering his tone when he saw Jared flinch at the vehemence. “I came down to check on him and he was awake. I introduced myself and he went to his knees, never even said a word.” He narrowed his eyes at Jared’s form, rigid with fear, and pointedly rested on the barely noticeable scar. “So my question is: what did _you_ do to him?”

Milo jumped up and squared off against the Captain, “What exactly are you accusing me of? Hurting my…Jared?”

“If the boot fits,” Jensen squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. He regretted coming up the stairs in only his sleep clothes, his fingers itching for the feel of his revolver.

“Milo,” the word was so soft that both men nearly missed it over their own harsh panting. Milo blinked his eyes and looked down to see Jared’s fingers fisted into the fabric of his sleep pants, his pale face lined with worry.

“It’s okay, Fen,” Milo crouched down again and ran his fingers through the long locks on the man’s head, tucking a strand behind his ear. It struck Jensen as odd that Milo would so easily turn his attention away from the threat that Jensen was imposing, it didn’t mesh with what he’d seen of the other man. Milo was a warrior, a fighter, and the first lesson you learned was never to turn your back on your enemy. Either Milo knew that Jensen wouldn’t do anything with Jared so close and so scared or Jared was Milo’s weak spot. 

“Cap’n?” Annie stood in the doorway, eyes flickering between the three men. She could feel the lingering tension and anger in the air. “There’s someone on the comm for you.”

“They’ll have to wait. Milo and I need to have a little sit-down.” He crossed his arms over his chest when Milo glared at him from over his shoulder.

“Sir, its _Gabe_ ,” she clarified, eyebrows rising to emphasize the name, “He has that information you wanted and you’re gonna want to hear this.”

Jensen sighed, arms falling to his side. “We’re not done here,” he said, fixing Milo with a determined look.

Milo held his eyes, lips tightened into a thin line, then nodded in a deliberately slow up and down motion. Jensen followed Annie out the door, looking back through the window before ascending the stairs to the Bridge to see Milo lifting Jared back onto the bed. Gripping the rails tight, he took the stairs two at a time.

 

***** 

 

Steve and Mr. Universe were talking about their days at the flight academy when Annie and Jensen made their way onto the Bridge. On the screen, Matt, Mr. Universe’s lovebot, was massaging his shoulders and dropping the occasional kiss to his neck. The two friends’ conversation cut off abruptly at Jensen’s less than amused look.

“Captain Ackles,” Matt addressed him politely. Seeing Annie enter behind him, Matt’s hands went to Mr. Universe’s chest and clutched possessively. His beautiful molded face tightened and he nodded curtly to Jensen’s second in command. “Annie.”

“Matt,” Jensen acknowledged before turning his attention to the techno-genius. “You got something for me?” Jensen’s wasn’t in the mood to coddle the man like he normally would and definitely didn’t have the patience for his amorous automaton’s misplaced jealousy. 

“Yeah,” the man on the screen replied. Picking up on Jensen’s no-nonsense demeanor, he patted Matt’s hand in a silent message for him to stop, “I’m sending you over some information now. Your passengers are definitely not what they seem.”

Jensen leaned over the panel next to the comm screen, glancing at the incoming transmission. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, his name is not Milo Padalecki.” 

“We already knew that,” Jensen cycled through the documents and pictures Mr. Universe had sent, mind half listening to the man and half reading the material.

Unflustered by Jensen’s unimpressed tone, Mr. Universe continued, “Their names are Milo and Jared Flynn and they were damned near impossible to find even for someone of my exceptional talents. They’ve nudged out yours truly as the most wanted man in the verse.”

“It say why they’re in such high demand?” Annie asked, leaning over Jensen’s shoulder to read the information flying across the screen.

“Nothing to warrant such a lofty place on the list. Just that Milo is considered highly dangerous and that Jared is his accomplice. On a side note that I think might interest you personally Jenny, they are definitely _not_ engaged.” Jensen jerked back in surprise as Mr. Universe’s words penetrated his thoughts at the same time a picture filled the screen.

“I’ll be damned.”

 


	3. Interventions and Secrets

Milo slipped out of the Infirmary, looking back in as he shut the door to assure himself that Jared was still sleeping peacefully. When he’d seen Ackles standing over his brother, Jared at the captain’s feet like a dog begging his master, it had taken everything he had not to kill the other man. Nobody, _nobody_ , made Jared go to his knees. Once the captain left with promises of a sit-down and a stare so serious that Milo knew it wasn’t optional, it had taken him over an hour to get Jared calm enough to go back to sleep. Jared was always so sensitive to the emotions of others and even a blind, deaf-mute would have sensed the tension rolling off him and Ackles. He’d soothed Jared until he quieted and like a cycle completing itself, Jared’s peace soothed him. 

As the two door panels clicked into place, he heard the muted clearing of a throat behind him. “I think it’s high time for that heart-to-heart.”

Spinning on his heel, he was confronted with the entire Persephone crew taking up all the available space in the common room and facing him like a firing squad. The blanket he’d been covered with lay neatly folded on the coffee table, Alona, Sophia and Misha now sitting on his makeshift bed. Their faces were a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Chris and Steve sat side by side on the other couch with Annie standing at the end, their expressions tense and wary, but unknowledgeable. Jensen was near the end of the couch where Alona sat, leaning back with one foot flat against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. It was easy to see in his actions and posture that the good captain was protective of the young girl – always hovering around her like she was vulnerable and precious – and Milo truly hoped he never needed to use that information.  He didn’t have to concentrate to see that Ackles knew the truth, it was clearly written on his face. 

A surge of adrenaline shot through his veins, fear pumping the hormone faster through his system. He glanced back at the med bay where Jared lay sleeping and took a deep breath to master his feelings. Jared did not need to be awake for this. Stepping forward carefully, he catalogued the weaponry. Jensen and Annie were carrying sidearms – Browncoat habits dying hard – and Chris was making a show of lovingly cleaning a Callahan full-bore autolock, one of the most powerful guns in the verse, while he, himself, was empty-handed. He ran through different scenarios, military tactics and plans of attack flicking across his mind like a faulty old-time picture show – each one with the same low probability of success as the one before it. 

“Never had a heart-to-heart with so many participants. You sure this isn’t more of an inquisition?” Milo’s eyes roved over each member, constantly assessing strengths and weaknesses while looking for any signs of attack.

“I guess that depends on you. The way I see it, this can go two ways – you play nice and we have us a civil little chat or you keep feeding us stories and we throw you and your contraband cargo,” Jensen jutted his chin in the direction of the Infirmary, “out the airlock. Your choice. Now, who are you and what are you doing on my ship?”

Milo stepped to the side, blocking the Infirmary from Jensen’s view. “I’d like to see you try. You have me at a numerical disadvantage, but I’ll kill a lot of you before you take me down.”

“That’s one way of seeing the situation,” Jensen looked less than impressed by Milo’s words. “Way I see it, though, I’ve got three of the best shots in the verse sitting here and I like the odds of you being the only one to leave horizontally.”

Milo narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, gaze clashing with the captain’s, but it was like encountering a brick wall. He blinked rapidly and the thoughtful tension in his face smoothed out. If Ackles was bluffing he was damned good at it so Milo hedged his bets, hoping to make the other man show his hand. “I told you. My name is Milo Padalecki and Jared is my fiancé. His father didn’t care for our marital plans so we’re running away to start a new life.”

Jensen nodded his head judiciously, pursing his lips as his mind rolled over Milo’s words. “You know us Rimfolk don’t have all that fancy book learning that y’all on the Core do, but we have enough sense to know when someone is pissing on our boots and telling us it’s raining.” He pulled a print out from the back pocket of his pants and flung it down toward the table. It fluttered and lilted on the folded blanket, two young boys, their arms slung around each other, smiled up from the paper at the assembled group.  

Jensen moved back to his deceptively casual position, “So you might want to rethink your answer and try that again?”

“Where did you get that? Who’s helping you?” Milo had a brief moment of hysterical panic before his training kicked in, mastering his body’s response to his manic mind – breathing controlled and regulated, heart steady and rhythmic.  His façade slipped for only a moment but he knew from the cocksure expression on Ackles’ face that the lapse of control hadn’t escaped the observant captain’s notice. 

“I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out,” Jensen gloated, pleased at causing the other man to falter.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Milo bellowed, face twisting in rage. “You’re meddling in affairs you know nothing about and putting Jared in danger.” He glared at the captain, voice steely and eyes promising pain. “I will not allow your stupid mistakes to hurt him.”

Jensen was taken aback by the vehemence in Milo’s expression. “You’re right,” Jensen agreed, “I don’t know anything about your situation. So maybe you should clue me in.”

 Milo swallowed down his panic and fear. Knowing that if he didn’t the strong emotions would pull Jared from his sleep, he fought to find a place of calm within himself. He concentrated and let his mind drift, float, ghosting across the space to the crew members, one by one.  

Alona’s eyes were wide and innocent, the depth of her kind soul so plain to see behind the brown orbs. _He can’t be all bad, right? Everyone’s got some good in ‘em._

Sophia sat poised and demure on the sofa, watching everything with eyes that saw too much and revealed too little. _What is he so afraid of?_

Misha, ever the preacher, stroked his thumb over the worn Bible in his hand, taking comfort with the words of a forgotten Father.   _And so the lion shall lay down with the lamb._

 Steve’s gaze flicked between Milo and Jensen, changing from wary to trusting with each volley.  _I sure hope Jensen knows what he’s doing_. 

Chris’s attention was solely focused on the scrap of cloth he was reverently swiping over his gun. _Vera, my beautiful, Vera. So shiny and purty when you’re all clean. Wonder what Steve would think of you coming to bed with us? Hmmm, pretty girl. Me stroking you while I give it to him…_

Annie, as much a soldier as Misha was a preacher, was at the ready, waiting for a hint of trouble, fingers dancing slightly in the air over the butt of her gun.   _Just one twitch and I’ll put a bullet in his brainpan before he takes his next breath._

Jensen outwardly exuded a calmness that his mind didn’t share. Milo concentrated a little harder, pressed a little firmer. _Yeah, I’ve got you scared now. I saw the fear in your eyes. What does it take to frighten a man like you? Hmmm? Whatever it is I won’t let you hurt my crew or that boy in there. I’ll shoot you myself._

“What’s it gonna be, Milo? You fessing up or are we taking this little talk for a walk down by the airlock?”

Milo looked over the group one last time, the corner of his mouth jerking in annoyance and displeasure. Taking a deep breath and hoping he wasn’t making a monumental mistake, he picked up the picture. “You are correct. Our last name is not Padalecki. Jared is my brother, my twin to be more precise.”

“That all you got to say?” Jensen pressed.

“What else would you like to hear, captain?” Milo’s eyes roved over the contents of the room, assessing each item’s usefulness as a weapon. This space was essentially a lounge room with throw pillows being the most potent of projectiles. He thought briefly of the Infirmary behind him, it held things he could use, but the likelihood of him getting there before Annie could make good on her threat was slim.

“How about we start with your name and go from there.” Jensen tracked each flick of Milo’s gaze and his lips twitched when he saw the resignation in the man’s face.

“That an order, Sarge?”

“Don’t go throwing around my past when you won’t talk about yours. Now, name.”

Milo stared at him, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You know what it is,” he hissed, under no delusions that the captain didn’t know everything if he had that picture.

“I know, but I want to hear it from your mouth.” Jensen pulled up from his lean, standing to his full height.

Milo’s left eye twitched and he swallowed hard. “Flynn. Milo and Jared Flynn.”

Chris’s eyes flew up to Milo’s face, awed and impressed, and his hand stopped caressing his beloved Vera. “Flynn? Like _the_ Flynns?”

“Yes.”

 “You’re one of _those_ Flynns?” Steve clarified, expression wary and shocked, a complete contrast to Chris’s.

“Yes.”

“Who are these Flynns and why is everybody referring to them with italics?” Misha set his Bible down, looking to Chris and Jensen for answers.

The answer didn’t come from either man, but from Sophia next to him. “The Flynns are one of the most powerful families in the verse. Their business practices and tactics leave a lot to be desired and they have a hand in almost everything, including the Alliance’s pockets. If there’s money to be made off of sin and depravity, you’ll find the Flynn’s are usually the ones cashing in on it.”

“Father should be proud that his reputation is so well known.” Milo smiled tightly and gave Sophia an aborted bow, the sarcasm evident to anyone listening.

“She’s putting it lightly,” Steve muttered. “Buddy of mine, met his husband visiting one of the Flynn’s pleasure dens on Dionysus. Nathan said they had him doing deplorable things for money. Cost Nathan his ship and everything he owned to buy out the contract and get him away. They dropped off the Cortex, not trusting the Flynns not to try to come after them.”

“Then you should understand why I had to get Jared away,” Milo looked to Steve.

“Why would you need to hide from your family? Flynns are thick as thieves and half as trust-worthy. What? Was Daddy ignoring you and this is your way of getting his attention? Because believe me, the rewards I saw on y’all’s heads, you’ve got his attention.” Jensen fought the urge to roll the tension out of his shoulders. This was all he needed, to get into the middle of some kind of family dispute, especially with that family.

“Wǒ yào shā le nǐ!” (I will kill you!) Milo took a step forward, ready to lunge at the captain when the metallic click of Annie cocking her gun stopped him cold. Nostrils flaring with his heaving breaths, Milo spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t want anything from my family. They’re hunting us! Does that sound like Jared and I are welcome for Sunday supper?”

“Maybe they found out that you were planning to sell your brother into slavery and pocket the spoils.” Jensen uncrossed his arms, putting his hand level with his weapon. 

“You really think I would do that? That I’m such a heartless ta mah duh (motherfucker) that I’d auction off my twin brother to the highest bidder.” Milo balled his fists, nails breaking into the skin of his palm.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I bet you’d crawl over your own mother for a buck, so what does a sibling matter.”

“Wait! Brothers?” Chris sat forward, placing Vera on the table next to Misha’s Bible and Milo spared a wild thought of how that summed up the Rim planets – violence and faith. Chris’s face scrunched in confusion. “You’re engaged to your brother?” As he thought on it, the confusion morphed into lust. “Wā cào!” (Holy fuck!) He slapped Steve’s knee, body bouncing on the couch in childish glee. “ _Told_ you they were kinky. Is it the brother thing that gets you off or something else? I’ve got me a brother, Alec, but I don’t…”

“Chris!” Jensen’s bark stopped the ramblings and silenced the room. 

“Oh, yeah,” Milo purred, a mocking lilt ruining the effect, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. “I love to call him baby brother while I’m giving it to him. Gets us both hot and riled up. He’s a wildcat. I can hardly keep up with him. I love to fuck him and make him call me Daddy.” 

“Really?” Chris held the edge of the table, knuckles white.

“No, you moron!” Milo snapped.

“So you don’t make him call you Daddy?” Chris blinked, then a lecherous smile spread across his face “Does he call you Mommy?”

Milo stared at Chris, mouth agape and eyes unblinking, as his earlier anger faded into stunned disbelief. Shaking his head, he raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were just trying to fool people with this idiot act, but you really are that dense, aren’t you?”

“What?” Chris asked affronted. “Why’s everybody looking at me like I’m the one with the loose screws?” He pointed at Milo. “He’s the guy bedding his brother.”

Milo tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed in incredulity. “This must be what losing your mind feels like.” Looking to Steve, he raised a hand in helplessness. “How do you stand him?”

“It can be trying at times.” Shrugging, Steve smiled apologetically. “He’s a little slow but you should see him naked.”

“Why am I slow? It was a valid question!” Chris protested, not liking being talked about.

“Most times,” Steve corrected under his breath. 

“No, it’s not a valid question, you untrained ape.” Milo snarled, anger overriding his shock. “I am not _bedding_ my brother, nor are we engaged.”

“But, you said…”

“I lied,” Milo clarified, “I would think a band of smugglers would understand lying.”

“Who said we were smugglers?” Jensen’s hand drifted closer to the gun at his side.

Milo arched an eyebrow. “You aren’t the only one with the ability to do a little research. I wouldn’t bring my brother on board unless I knew something about the ship.”

“Which leads us back to Jensen’s point,” Annie pinned him with a piercing stare. “Why are you on Persephone? Cuz pardon me, but your brother is just the type to fetch a pretty penny on the slave trade and you know our opinion on that. I’d hate to think you lied to us about that too.” She shifted her weight, balancing it on both feet.

Milo sighed and began his explanation. “I don’t know which is worse – you thinking I’m committing incest or that I’m selling my brother into slavery. Doesn’t speak well of me either way.”

“You haven’t said much to sway our opinion another way and your family name ain’t doing you any favors. You put your flesh and blood in a cryo-container and we both know that you had no guarantees he’d survive the transport. It ain’t a far stretch to consider what you wouldn’t do to him.” Jensen let the implication in his last sentence hang heavy in the air.

Milo licked his lips, trying to decide what to tell the captain that would appease him, but not reveal everything. “I was truthful when I said we were running away from Jared’s – or, I guess, our – father. Even as some of the lesser known Flynn family members, we’re too conspicuous together, especially since Jared towers over everyone, so I devised the plan to smuggle Jared on board. I didn’t know for certain it wouldn’t jeopardize Jared’s health, but the need outweighed the risk.”

“You’re going to have to be more forthright than that.” Jensen sat on the arm of the couch next to Alona. “You best come clean if you’re wanting to stay on the safe side of the hull.”

Milo deliberated, he really didn’t want to get into this, but his options were limited – again he was outnumbered and outmanned. “That’s it. Jared and I are running from our parents.”

“My boots are still wet and it ain’t raining. A couple of kids running from their parents wouldn’t cause this much of a hoopla. Those rewards are pretty hefty. You gotta give me something to keep me from cashing you in.”

“No!” Milo barked. Sighing, breath gushing out through his nose, he stared the captain directly in the eye. “Jared and I are…special,” he dodged.

“Special…how?” Jensen straightened up.

“Just special,” Milo shrugged. Taking in Jensen’s stonewall face, he licked his lips again and scraped his teeth over the lower. Milo swallowed. “I’m a reader.”

“Psychic?” Annie’s shoulders drooped in shock, the gun she’d had trained on him since his first threatening move faltered.

“Yes.”

“Psychics don’t exist,” Steve argued.

“I beg to differ,” Milo countered. “It’s not automatic. I have to concentrate in order to read another’s thoughts, but so far I haven’t met anyone who can keep me out.” He eyed the captain suspiciously. “Well, not entirely.”

“Prove it,” Jensen challenged.

“I don’t like the idea of someone digging around in my head,” Chris sounded nervous, fingers smoothing over Vera’s barrel.

“Trust me,” Milo gazed from Chris to the gun, “nobody wants to hear your thoughts and, for the record, Steve will not allow you to bring Vera to bed with you.”

“What?” Steve looked at Chris.

“ **Tsai boo shr**!” (No way!) Chris yelled, pulling his hand away from Vera like she’d burned him.

“You really thought I’d let you bring your gun to bed with us!” Steve’s face seemed frozen in his disbelieving expression.

“Aw, baby, don’t be jealous. I still love you best,” Chris wheedled.

Jensen pulled his gaze from the quarreling couple to look back at Milo. “That don’t prove anything but Chris is a twisted individual with an unnatural attachment to his weapon,” Jensen grimaced at the images his statement brought to mind, the expression matching Alona, Sophia and Misha’s. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“You want a demonstration?” Milo began the process of relaxing his mind. It was always easier when he let it come naturally.

“I ain’t buying something I ain’t seen.” Jensen answered.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Milo let his mind float through the air like tendrils of invisible smoke. 

He looked at Alona. “You were caught once by your father with a boy from down the road. The boy had claimed he was eighteen and had the…size to convince you. It turned out he was actually fifteen and your father whipped you when he found out. You’ve always considered the spanking worth it though.” Alona blushed, the deep red striking on her light skin.

He moved to Sophia next and deliberated as he thought about wording. “Pink,” he finally settled on, “in black with accessories in pearl.” Sophia’s face paled and her breath hitched slightly. For the first time since boarding the ship, Milo’s eyes softened, a twinge of sympathy that was there then gone under Sophia’s defiant glare.

Misha sat still awaiting his reading, his body tense with nerves. Again Milo hesitated, considering his phrasing carefully. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing with blood dried on its fangs doing penance by tending the flock.” Misha’s eyes dropped to the table and he leaned forward to pick up his Bible, thumb worrying the leather cover.

He snorted at Chris’ apprehensive face. “Anything I say will be considered too easy. You did double-cross a friend once. The money was too good and you got greedy and you know if the situation arises again, you’d do it just the same.” Chris shifted in his seat, anxiously looking at Jensen from the corner of his eye.

When it was Steve’s turn, he smiled brightly. “Never put too much into thinking so I should be an open book.” 

Milo folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head sideways. “You put on a good show, but it would only take a handful of the right words in the right tone for you to let Chris bring Vera to bed.” Chris crowed as Steve sputtered.

He could feel Annie trying to push all her thoughts away, blank her mind, so he would come up empty. Unconsciously, her finger traced the handle of her gun, body betraying mind with the soothing gesture. “That piece you carry. It was a gift from your uncle right before he died. He raised you when your parents were killed in a farming accident.” She gasped, hand splayed wide and covering the holster as if protecting the weapon.

Milo turned to Jensen and was once again met with a blockade. He concentrated harder, the questing fingers of thought seeking a way in. He felt the wall give and an image of him helping Jared out of the cargo bay flashed across his mind. He narrowed his gaze. “When you can’t walk, you crawl and when you can’t crawl, you have somebody carry you,” he said slowly, the words coming to him in a trickle. A sense of vindication flitted over him at seeing Jensen’s controlled visage waver at the words.

Looking at the gathered group, most still recovering from his too-knowing revelations, he asked, “Satisfied?”

Jensen nodded, grudgingly. “About that,” he conceded. “You said you were both special. Is Jared a reader too?”

“No, Jared’s not a reader.” _God, wouldn’t that be easier_ , Milo thought. Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder toward the closed Infirmary doors. 

“Then what can he do?” Jensen pushed.

“He’s just different,” Milo deflected.

“Different how? You can read minds. How do I know that Jared can’t kill me with his brain or something? This is a brave, new, sci-fi world. I ain’t dismissing anything from the realm of the possible.” Jensen shook his head.

“He can’t kill you with his brain,” Milo replied tiredly. Sighing, he looked behind him again. “He’s empathic. He can sense the emotions of those around him.” 

“Was that so hard?” Jensen quirked an eyebrow. “How does that substantial price on your head figure into all this?” 

“When Jared turned twelve, our father enrolled him in the Oiran Academy.”

“The Oiran Academy,” Sophia repeated surprised. “The Consort training center?”

“I’ve heard of that,” Steve nodded. “It’s like finishing school for them. Pretty elite.”

“Yes,” Milo confirmed, cataloguing the Companion’s reaction. “Our Uncle Fabian runs it and thought with Jared’s _talents_ he would make an ideal Consort.”

“Jared’s a Consort?” Alona looked around in cheerful curiosity. “They’re like Companions, right?”

“No,” Sophia answered sharply. “Companions work under the protection of the guild. We are able to choose our clients, turn down ones that are less than appealing to us. We are independent and free to conduct our affairs as we see fit, provided they fall within the guidelines set forth by the guild. A Consort is beholden to one person, sold to the highest bidder and then trained to be the perfect…partner for that person. They have no freedom or rights. It’s a small step above slavery, important in the fact that it’s legal in the most barbaric sense of the word.”

“Precisely,” Milo nodded at Sophia’s assessment. “Jared’s empathy gives him the innate ability to sense what people need, what people want, and cater to it. Uncle Fabian believed that this would make him a perfect Consort – a dutiful spouse that would be able to understand and adapt to his husband. It also didn’t hurt that Jared has always been a kind soul with a need to keep the peace that borders on docility.”

“For twins, y’all sure don’t act alike,” Chris observed.

“Sharing a womb doesn’t mean we share a personality,” Milo retorted. 

“Your parents sent their son to a school where he would be sold into slavery?”  Misha asked, hoping he had misunderstood the situation.

“As I think we’ve established, my family aren’t nice people and money is a huge motivator in their lives. Apparently, Jared was worth quite a bit. When he was seventeen, Jeff Morgan, a friend of our father’s, purchased him for an obscene amount of money.” Milo’s voice dripped with disdain.

“You think this Morgan character doesn’t mean to make good on the love and cherish part of his vows.” Jensen didn’t word it as a question. Milo’s thoughts were fairly clear.

“The man watched Jared and I grow up. He was there the moment we were born and now he’s going to marry my brother. A boy he used to bounce on his knee and chase around the yard. Does any of that sound right to you?”

“Love comes in many forms,” Misha began.

“Save it, shepherd. You can’t convince me it’s love. What it is, is pedophilia. Jared will be bound to that man and trained to do whatever the sick pervert wants from him.” Milo’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Where were you when all this was going down?” Jensen was seeing the pieces falling into place; he only needed the last few to complete the picture.

“I had already been shipped off to an Alliance training facility tailored to my abilities. I was trained to be a soldier, use my gift to my advantage. They considered Jared a liability, too susceptible to the emotions of others, and therefore didn’t have a place for him. Trust me,” Milo’s face hardened, “if I’d been home, Jared would _never_ have been sent away. It took me two years, a lot of planning, a great deal of money and an insurmountable amount of luck to get Jared out and then even more money to make us disappear. I thought I had more time, but a little over a month ago I received an announcement about Jeff and Jared’s marriage – if becoming someone’s trained pet can be called marriage. I couldn’t let it happen. Jared is nobody’s servant.”

 “And the bounties?” Annie prompted.

“Jared’s not the only one worth a good bit. My training makes me invaluable to the Alliance. I didn’t exactly let them know I was going to illegally break my brother out of a prominent Consort academy. Especially since I didn’t have any intention of returning.”

“That explains you, but what about Jared?” Steve’s eyebrow rose in question.

“My parents are going to want him back. From what I understand Jared was cash on delivery. Unless my parents can produce Jared by the _wedding date_ ,” he sneered, “they receive nothing. They have half the Alliance on their payroll; it would be easy for them to have a reward issued for Jared to ensure that the majority of the bounty hunters in the verse were looking for him.” Milo stared down at the photograph of him and Jared, smiling at how innocent they looked.

“What was your plan once we got to Ariel?” Sophia asked.

Milo pulled his gaze from the print-out. “Run. Hide.” 

Jensen stood and walked over to the window of the Infirmary, seeing Jared still sleeping. “Seems to me that y’all will need to find someplace safe, someplace that’s able to stay beneath the Alliance’s radar and Ariel ain’t that place.”

“Someplace like a smuggling ship?”  Milo arched an eyebrow. His mind reached out, but once again met a solid wall and it frustrated him.  He wasn’t exaggerating or lying before when he said he’d never met anyone who could keep him out. He’d been able to read Ackles earlier, but now wondered if that brief glimpse had less to do with him breaking through the man’s defenses and more to do with the captain dropping his guard. “I thought you were going to throw me out of the airlock?” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Still might,” Jensen shrugged, gaze still trained on the slumbering man. “I’d mind my p’s and q’s for awhile, just to be on the safe side.”

“You’re suggesting that Jared and I stay on Persephone?” Milo wanted clarification. The captain vacillated back and forth too much – one minute wanting to throw them off the ship and the next offering them sanctuary. Persephone would make the ideal refuge for them, but he couldn’t do anything to put Jared in danger. The way Ackles was watching Jared through the window made him uneasy, but the thoughts he’d read earlier were more protective than possessive.

“Possibly,” Jensen finally turned back to face him. “This isn’t a benevolence ship. Everyone here pays their way – either by fare or by work. Since I know that the Alliance seized your accounts once they realized you were missing, you can’t pay. So what can your extra hands do to balance out what your extra mouths can eat?”

“I’m a good fighter,” Milo went with the obvious. 

“Got me good fighters,” Jensen jutted his chin in Chris and Annie’s direction, both straightening up and squaring their shoulders. “Some that I trust a piece more than I do you when it comes to covering my hide. What else can you do?”

“I’m not your average fighter,” Milo argued. “I’ve been trained to do things these two haven’t even thought of and my marksmanship is unparalleled.”

“I don’t doubt that and I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your abilities. My worries ain’t about your fighting; it’s about your trustworthiness.”

Milo thought for a minute. “You said you were in need of a doctor. Part of my training was in field medicine. I can handle most of the injuries that come with your brand of work. Jared was in line to attend the medacad before Father chose another path for him. He’s had instruction in anatomy and physiology as well as intermediate medicine. He interned for a while with our family physician. We may not be doctors but between the two of us, we should suffice.” 

Jensen was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of Persephone’s engines an echoing heartbeat in the room, before he nodded. “Okay, then. When Jared wakes up we’ll settle him into the room across from yours. Make no mistake though. I am the captain and you and your brother will act like any other member of this crew. Understood?”

Milo studied Ackles for a long minute. “How do I know you won’t change your mind and throw us out of the airlock in our sleep?”

“How dare you…” Annie seethed through her teeth, the words forced out on a hissed whisper. Her fingers grazed the cool metal of her weapon, eyes darting to Jensen for permission.

Ackles’ face shuttered, his features hardening into a cold mask. “Listen, son,” he began in an overly calm voice and Milo bristled under the term ‘son’, “if I aim to kill you, you will be awake, armed and you’ll know exactly why I’m doing it.”  

Milo nodded warily, chastised but refusing to apologize. “I’ll let you know when Jared is awake.”

 “Cap’n, I don’t know about letting them stay. He seems,” Chris scrutinized Milo, “fishy.”

“Good thing it’s not your decision,” Jensen walked back over to the group.

“Jared is an excellent cook,” Milo added.

“Welcome aboard,” Chris amended his position.

 

*****

 

“Hey,” Jensen did a cursory knock as he entered Sophia’s shuttle.

“You do know it’s customary to actually wait for permission to enter after you knock or it otherwise negates the purpose of the action,” Sophia gave Jensen a tight smile, pouring tea from a delicate, patterned teapot into a matching cup. 

“I thought you were joking about wanting me to knock.”

“Obviously not,” Sophia added a pale pink liquid to her tea, stirring it in with an elegantly engraved silver spoon.

“You want me to,” Jensen jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

Huffing out a put-upon sigh and rolling her eyes, Sophia tapped the spoon gently against the side of the cup and set it on the saucer. “Sit down, Jen.”

Jensen took the seat across from her. Sophia had transformed the utilitarian shuttle into a lavish space worthy of her refinement. The couches were plush, the cushions soft and covered in a succulent velvet and tulle and gauze hung from the ceiling, giving the area an ethereal feel. Jensen picked up one of the throw pillows from the couch and fingered the silky tassels fringing the edge.

Sophia waited patiently, sipping her tea. After a few minutes, she set her cup down and fixed Jensen with an expectant gaze. “What did you need, Jen?”

“Huh?” Jensen pulled his focus from the pillow, mind slowly coming back to his purpose. 

“Since you barged into my shuttle unannounced, I assumed you had something you’d like to discuss,” she said leadingly.

“Oh, um, right.” He tossed the throw pillow to the side. “That Oiran Academy that Flynn busted his brother out of, you seemed like you’d heard of it.”

“Rumors and whispers,” she nodded.

“What kind of rumors?” Jensen leaned forward and picked up the spoon from her saucer, twirling it between his fingers.

Sophia watched him. Jensen had never been prone to restless behavior and the fidgeting was disconcerting. “Why does it matter?”

“Doesn’t.” He twirled the handle over and under, the bowl rising and falling in undulating waves around his knuckles.

“Jensen.”

“So _phi_ a,” he countered with a mocking tone. “Look, I just offered crazy a place on my ship; I’m trying to figure out what kind it is.” He tossed the spoon onto the table and stood, pacing over to a picture of Callista Falls. The artist had used paints made on Andromeda that refracted the light in a way that it appeared the water was cascading down the cliff if you moved slowly from side to side. “I mean, he’s in there telling all sorts of tall tales and being a member of the Flynn clan ain’t lending to his credibility.”

“Jensen, you’re a professional liar. I would think if anyone would be able to determine if someone’s lying it would be you,” she smiled gently, picking her cup up again.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sighed, “I think that’s part of the problem. My gut tells me that he’s shooting straight, but the things he said. Do you think he’s really a reader?”

“Judging by everyone’s reactions, I’d say he was pretty accurate,” she shrugged. “If you don’t trust him, then why let him stay?”

“If it was just him, I wouldn’t, but there is something about Jared. I have this…this… _feeling_. Like he’d be better off – safer – here…with us.” He turned back to the picture. “With me,” he murmured.

“Is that feeling originating above or below the belt?” She looked at him over the rim of her cup, one artfully sculpted eyebrow arched in question.

Spinning around, he glared at her. “It’s not like that.” At her skeptical look, he added. “It’s not! I saw this scar on his side. I think he was abused, beaten. If they find him, they’ll send him back to that Oiran place until his mockery of a wedding. Then he’ll have Uncle Jeffy to abuse him some more.”

“You don’t know that Jensen. The man could truly care for Jared,” Sophia admonished.

“Milo’s right about that though. It doesn’t paint a rosy picture for Jared’s future. Soph, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to the kid.” Jensen sighed.

Sophia stared at him a long time, lips pressed together in consideration, and Jensen pushed down the urge to squirm under her assessing gaze. Resting the cup on her thigh, she licked her lips. “I don’t know much about the Oiran Academy. Mainly like Steve said it’s an elite finishing school for Consorts. I do know that when one of the House girls became too willful or rebuffed their training, the headmistress would threaten to send them there. I only know of one girl that was actually sent. I heard that it was strictly disciplined and the punishments were swift and severe. When she returned to the House, she was so grateful to be back that she ended up being one of the best Companions the House ever produced.”

“Severe? Like whippings?” 

 “I –“ Sophia stopped, swallowed and then shook her head, shrugging. “Kitara didn’t like to talk about it.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Jensen eyed her carefully.

“What makes you say that?” Sophia’s body and expression were the picture of baffled innocence.

“I’m a professional liar. If anyone can determine if someone’s lying it would be me.” He smirked at her. She merely smiled and Jensen knew he wouldn’t be able to get anymore information out of her. He looked around the shuttle with a critical eye. “Do your marks really care about all these,” he waved his hand around to encompass the opulence, “trappings?”

“My _clients_ appreciate finery in all its forms,” she stood, carrying the teapot, cup and saucer to the sideboard with the grace and poise she’d learned at her House.

“Huh,” Jensen flicked the bolt of burgundy satin hanging near him. “Thought they’d be interested more in what you’re peddling than the store. Maybe you’re not that good.”

“You found your way in, I’m certain you can find your way out.” Sophia kept her back to him, voice controlled as she fought a grin. She slid the empty vial that had contained the pink liquid back into an ebony lacquered box.

“Just saying,” Jensen continued, knowing that she was on the verge of laughing, “a present in a croker sack is still a present.”

“Good-bye, Jensen.” She called over her shoulder.

“Good-bye, Soph,” he chuckled, ducking out of the shuttle.

She sighed in amusement, closing the lid to the box and running her hand over the pearl in-laid design on the top.

 

*****

 

Jared padded quietly up the stairs on shaky legs. 

When he’d woken for the second time in the Infirmary, his head had been a little bit clearer. Milo was there and had reassured him that everything was fine, that they had escaped and were safe. Jared had placidly allowed Milo to check him over, submitting to screenings and diagnostics with the detached interest of someone who’d undergone them too many times before. As Milo finished up, Jared noticed a petite blonde woman staring in at them through one of the large windows set in the wall.

_Who’s she?_

Milo jumped at the silent question and Jared saw a wistful smile form on his brother’s usually stoic face. Jared had always been the one person whose thoughts Milo could read without effort. When they were younger, Jared’s thoughts had been a low level hum in Milo’s mind all the time – a constant background noise he’d likened to a comm panel on in another room. Rarely were conversations between the twins vocalized both ways – Jared typically thought his part and Milo answered out loud – a fact that annoyed their father to no end. 

It really didn’t become an issue until the boys turned eleven and Milo received a very complete and vivid recounting of Jared’s first kiss with Sandy McCoy while his brother lay on his bed remembering the encounter. Deciding that privacy was fast becoming an issue, they began working on ways for Jared to block his thoughts from Milo. It was slow going – the nature of their relationship was built on their closeness – but in the end they’d succeeded. Milo was only able to hear the thoughts that Jared wished for him to, that he actively projected at his brother. Mostly they communicated as they always had – Jared thinking and Milo answering – but now Jared was able to keep some things secret, just for him. A handful of months later it was all a moot point as Milo was sent off to his Alliance training school and Jared was sent to the Oiran academy.

“Who?” Milo turned to see where Jared was looking. Noticing Alona on the other side of the glass, he smiled and nodded at her. “That’s Alona. She’s the ship’s mechanic.”

Jared’s eyes slanted in a knowing grin as he watched his brother. _She likes you. She’s cute._

“Good for her,” Milo snapped. Seeing Jared flinch, he softened his tone. “You’re my concern, Jared. I don’t have time for such silliness.” 

_You worry too much about me. You deserve to have something for yourself._

“Let’s get you where you can stand on your own two feet and your arms aren’t trying to shake off your body then we’ll talk about my love life,” Milo frowned.

 _Or lack thereof_.

“Hey,” Alona had moved from the window to the open doorway, hovering just on the other side. Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid of scaring Jared, but still laced with her seemingly endless cheerfulness. “Cap’n asked me to show Jared to his room and make sure he gets all settled in.”

_My room?_

“Yes, Jared, your room.” Milo leaned over and peered directly into Jared’s eyes. “Remember? I told you we were going to stay on this ship for a while. We’re going to help out in the medical bay.”

Jared nodded jerkily. _Sorry, I remember you saying that now._

Milo chucked Jared under the chin. “Hey, no need to apologize. You’re still a little dazed from the cryo-sleep. That’s all.”

Alona’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two men, not quite understanding what was going on but knowing she was missing half of it, whatever _it_ was. “So, um, you ready?”

 _Am I?_ Jared punctuated his question with a raised eyebrow. _Is she safe?_

“Yep, all ready to go,” Milo slapped Jared on the knee. He helped his brother stand and kept a steadying hand on his waist as the followed the bubbly blonde out of the Infirmary. 

Alona seemed to be a nervous talker. Jared could feel her confusion over them and she apparently tried to cover her unease with words. As she led them through the halls, she inundated them with information on Persephone – engine specs, hull thickness, maximum velocity attainable, cargo capacity. Her melodic voice washed over them in a sea of ship specifications. 

though his legs were still extremely wobbly, with each step Jared felt a little steadier and a little surer of his surroundings. Jostling Milo with his shoulder, he jutted his chin in toward Alona.

_Ship’s mechanic, huh?_

Milo nodded.

_Sure she’s not…sly?_

Milo glared.

_She sure is into this ship and you have a type. Lesbians love you for some reason._

Milo slowed, allowing Alona to gain a little distance on them so a whisper wouldn’t be heard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

_Nichelle Wallace._

Milo tugged Jared forward, leaning in to hiss in his brother’s ear. “You promised to never mention that again.”

Jared smiled sweetly at him, he’d missed his brother. Before he could answer, they stopped in a small hallway lined with sliding paper doors. Alona pointed out his new room, directly across the hall from Milo’s, and he murmured a quiet thank you, ducking inside and ignoring Milo’s scowling expression. Ah, Nichelle Wallace, the greatest piece of fraternal fodder ever created.

 He flomped down on the surprisingly comfortable bed, feeling the pull of sleep tug at him. The drugs needed for him to travel in the cryo-container had done a number on him and Milo assured him sleep was the best thing. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around the pillow and nestled his head into the down, his eyes closing almost immediately.

That was hours ago and Jared had woken up starving. He thought he remembered Milo saying that he’d been in the container for four days so it wasn’t surprising that he was hungry. He silently made his way down the hallway hoping to find the kitchen. He could have woken Milo, but he could feel his brother’s exhaustion and concern earlier and knew he was the reason for it. He was serious earlier when he said Milo needed to worry about him less and he refused to be responsible for another sleepless hour, especially for something as trivial as hunger. Light was spilling into the hallway from a room at the end and Jared approached cautiously. He didn’t think anyone was awake, the entire ship exuding a peacefulness he’d long ago learned to associate with slumber, but you could never be too careful. He hadn’t been told the rules of the ship and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to eat when it wasn’t an appointed meal time.

Standing to the side of the doorway, hiding in the shadows, he peered into the well-lit room. The green eyed man from earlier – _Captain_ , his mind supplied – the one that Milo was so tense around, was sitting at the table, a cloth draped over the surface with weapons of various shapes and sizes spread out. Long fingers wiped a scrap of fabric over the barrel of a pistol, removing smudges and dust with a quick efficiency that had Jared mesmerized. Opening the cylinder and letting it fall to the side, the captain closed his left eye and checked inside the barrel.

“Come on out, Jared. It ain’t polite to stare. People will start to question your manners.” Jensen’s gaze never lifted, eye still peering down the barrel of the gun.

Jared startled. He bowed his head, his bangs hanging low to conceal his face, and obediently made his way into the dining room. From beneath his fringe, he saw the captain reseat the cylinder with a quick flick of his wrist and set the pistol on the cloth. Coming up beside the table, gaze still respectfully lowered to his feet, he folded his knees, sinking down to the floor at the captain’s feet. The captain’s smell was strong this close and Jared inhaled deeply, getting light-headed from the scent alone. A jolt of arousal spiked through him, his cock twitching in interest and his body tensing with the need to surround himself in that smell. Blinking, he flushed – his training keeping him from jerking back in surprise – and his eyes skidded from side to side as his frantic mind raced. He’d never had that happen before, neither man nor woman ever eliciting a sexual reaction from him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there,” Jensen leaned forward, cupping his hands under Jared’s elbows and ignoring the intense sense of deja vu. “We have plenty of chairs to go around. No need to be sitting on the floor.” He guided the younger man to the chair beside him and resumed his seat. “You need something or not able to sleep?”

Jared swallowed, eyes fixed on his hands folded in his lap. “I – I was hungry.”

Jensen smiled, happy to hear more than Milo’s name from Jared’s lips. “I reckon you would be. I think there’s some of that whatever Alona made around here. Bless her heart she tries, but her cookin’ still needs a bit of work.” 

“Thank you,” Jared murmured quietly, slowly moving to stand and see what he could find, hoping he didn’t fall in front of the captain. Jensen reached out and placed a warm hand on Jared’s shoulder, stopping him from rising. Jared’s face flamed hotter at the contact and he frowned at his body’s reaction.

“Sit,” Jensen commanded gently and Jared stilled immediately. “I’ll get it. You just relax. You’ve had a hectic day and I’m sure your head is still spinning.” He moved around the small kitchen, dishing out a serving of Alona’s latest concoction while trying to hide the grimace on his face. Placing the plate on the table in front of Jared, he remembered something that Milo said earlier.

“Your brother says that you’re quite the cook.” Jensen moved to the cabinet to gather silverware and pour Jared a drink. “You think you might be able to help us out with the vittles situation? I love Alona like my own blood, but a man can only eat so many questionable meals.”

Jared nodded his thanks for the silverware and drink, placing them carefully on the table. “It…it was p – part of my training to learn how to cook for my new husband.” Jared speared some of the unfamiliar dish with his fork, the utensil shaking in his quaking hand, and took a bite. His jaw clamped shut to prevent him gagging as the unpleasant flavor burst across his tongue. Chewing slowly, deliberately, he swallowed, grabbing his drink to wash it down. Bless her heart, indeed. “I’m certain that Miss Alona does her best,” Jared forced his face to remain placid as he gathered another bite. He was honestly too hungry to pass up any offering of food – you never knew when you’d be allowed another meal. He’d been forced to ingest so many horrid things over the years, a bit of bad cooking was fairly low on the list. “I would be honored to cook for your crew, captain, and provide any other services they may require of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed, not liking the implication in Jared’s last sentence. The words were spoken simply, not with a hint of lust or seduction – unlike a certain horn-swaggler that Jensen knew – but the meaning was unmistakable. “Jared, you and your brother will be running the Infirmary. That is the only other service my crew will have need of from you.”

Jared nodded, finishing the remnants of his dinner with a few forced swallows. His empty stomach was happily full even if his taste buds were ready to revolt. He reached for his drink again hoping to appease them. He eyed the captain over the rim of his glass, that unexpected thrum of arousal spiking once again. “M-Milo says that you have offered us sanctuary on your ship,” he licked away the liquid from his upper lip. “Whenever the captain is ready for me to show our _gratitude_ , let me know.”

“Good evening.”

The low greeting from the doorway behind him startled Jared and his hand jerked, knocking over his cup and spilling its contents on the table. Eyes wide in panic, Jared jumped to his feet and hurried to the kitchen for something to clean the mess with. Wiping up the liquid with shaking hands, he murmured apologies over and over.

“Jared. Jared, calm down,” Jensen’s gentle voice didn’t break through the litany of _I’m sorry’s_. He reached out and placed his hands over Jared’s, halting the cloth that was pushing the liquid around with each of Jared’s harried swipes instead of absorbing it. Jared’s eyes snapped up, scared and worried. Jensen ducked his head to meet those hazel orbs head on. “It’s okay,” he nodded to emphasize the words, continuing when Jared didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just a little spill. Nothing to be upset about.” He took the cloth and, with a few quick swipes, had the table clean and dry. “See? Easy as pie.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared’s face was tilted to the ground again and a muscle in Jensen’s jaw ticked. 

Deciding to change the conversation, he put a hand on Jared’s shoulder and turned him toward the newcomer whose abrupt greeting had created the spill. “Jared, I’d like you to meet Misha. He’s a shepherd from the Riley Abbott. Misha, this is Milo’s brother, Jared.”

Misha approached, face open and friendly. He knew that Jared had to be overwhelmed by the day’s events and he didn’t want to make the boy any more nervous. “Pleased to meet you, Jared. I apologize for startling you earlier.”

“The pleasure is mine, shepherd, and please do not take blame for my clumsiness. You wouldn’t have time to devote to your flock if you did.” Jared could feel the holy man’s concern for him, his compassion shining out of him like a beacon. Deep under his serene soul, Jared could feel old remnants of violence, but knew it wasn’t directed at him or Milo so he dismissed it. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t felt anything from the captain. The thought made a cold wave of fear slide down his spine and he fought the urge to fidget. Facing Jensen, he locked his knees to keep from dropping down to them, understanding from the previous times that the captain didn’t like the gesture. “If it’s okay, I’d like to clean my dishes and retire to my room.”

Jensen ignored Misha’s sharp glance. “Leave the dishes, I’ll take care of them. You know, you don’t have to ask for my say-so to go to bed. You’re free to do what you’d like on this ship as long as it doesn’t cause harm to her or the crew.”

“Yes, sir.” Jared bit his lip, looking from Jensen to the dishes and back. Finally nodding, he moved toward the doorway that would take him back to his room.

Misha’s glare was colder this time and Jensen could feel the freezing burn on him. Shooting the judgmental man an equally harsh look, he called out to the retreating form. “Hey, Jared?” He waited until Jared turned. “My name is Jensen.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Jensen watched Jared leave, lips tight in frustration. Things still weren’t adding up and he intended to find out why. Remembering Misha’s presence, Jensen pulled his eyes and thoughts away from Jared. “Looking for a little late night snack, Mish?”

Misha was scrutinizing him carefully. “You touch that boy in anything more than a brotherly fashion, you’ll be buying passage on a trip to Special Hell.” He moved to the counter to prepare a pot of tea.

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up, his hands flailing up then landing hard against his thighs. “Why does everyone assume I have a thing for Jared?”

Misha’s face was disbelieving. “Special. Hell.” He enunciated, pulling a tin of dried leaves from the cabinet.

Jensen’s face shuttered, a stony mask descending over his features. “In case you haven’t heard shepherd, I fought at Persephone Bay. Hell holds no surprises for me.”

 


	4. Assumptions and Expectations

Jared woke early and made his way to the kitchen to take stock of what the ship had on hand he could work with to make meals. At the Oiran Academy he’d been tasked with cooking for his uncle, the Commandant, and the tutors. No matter what ingredients were available, Jared was expected to make something to appease their discerning tastes and he’d quickly learned to make the most with the least. He searched the cabinets and the cold storage, mouth twisting in thought as different possibilities came to mind. He figured the crew must make due with items that had the longest shelf life, deep space voyage making the storage and preservation of perishables difficult, which meant that some recipes would have to undergo creative alterations. He began to realize that a portion of Alona’s less than palatable offerings might have more to do with limited ingredients than her cooking skills. Milo said they would be stopping on Ariel soon and maybe he could suggest a few inexpensive things that would have the greatest impact on enhancing meals. He needed the crew to see his value so they would be inclined to let him and Milo stay. He couldn’t go back to Oiran, back to the darkness, the fear, the…. No, Jared shook his head, forcing a smile on his face like he’d been trained to do. No matter what you feel on the inside, always maintain your composure and smile. If the crew of the Persephone decided they had no use for him, maybe he could convince them to send him to Morgan. Marriage to Jeff was definitely the lesser of the two evils.

Jeff Morgan had always been kind to him, even when he was young. Father had never had time for him or Milo, his attention too focused on his eldest, the golden son, Nikolai, or on his youngest, the princess daughter, Giselle, but Jeff made an effort to spend time with him. Jared was almost relieved when his betrothed had been revealed to be his family’s old friend, the other possibilities so harrowing that it made Jared shiver still. He knew that if he wasn’t delivered on his wedding date that his parents stood to lose a sizeable sum of money, but their financial loss didn’t concern him. The Flynns had enough money that the piddly amount they were to receive for Jared wouldn’t affect their bottom line. It was the idea of hurting Jeff that almost made him regret his escape…almost.  He rolled his shoulder as a twinge of pain shot through the muscles. Shaking off thoughts of Oiran and Jeff, he returned his attention to the pantry stores. The past and the future didn’t matter, only the present. A consort didn’t dwell on what once had been or what could be, only what he was needed for now. And right now, the captain needed him to make breakfast.

He quickly gathered a few things and found the cookware, mixing the ingredients in what he hoped would be an appetizing combination. Stirring the skillet, he sampled the contents, frowning for a minute before he retrieved a small bottle of dried herbs. Adding a dash, he tasted it again and shook his head. Better. Not great, but better. 

The smell of food proved to be a lure for the crew, the complement trickling in as the savory scent wafted through the ship to reach the living quarters.  Misha wandered in, gracing Jared with a warm smile as he poured himself a cup of the already prepared tea and offering his help. Jared politely declined, this was his task and he wouldn’t burden others with it. A blonde woman stumbled in next, her long hair tied haphazardly at the nape of her neck and a scowl on her face, followed by two burly men. Unlike the unassuming preacher, these three gave off an aura of authority and their presence was intimidating. Jared automatically bowed his head in respect, mind reaching out to gauge their moods so he could tailor his own. 

The blonde exuded a sleep-heavy grumpiness that made Jared smile slightly, her qualm not with anything in particular, just the fact that she was vertical before she was truly ready. The men…Jared gave a little gasp and his eyes fluttered. The men had recently had sex, the sense of satiation arousing and calming Jared at the same time.  It wasn’t the first time that Jared had been subjected to post-coital bliss, far from it, but it was the first time that he’d experienced a surge of _wantneed_ from it. He blinked rapidly trying to rein in the feeling and control his body’s reaction to it.

“Jared?” Misha’s voice broke through his thoughts and his head snapped up to attention. “This is Annie,” the preacher motioned to the blonde woman, “she’s a tad cantankerous first thing in the morning.” The woman glared at him, but he ignored her in favor of introducing the men. “And here we have Steve, our ship’s pilot,” he gestured to the blonde man then the surly looking man next to him, “and his husband, Chris. I’m not sure what Chris’ actual title is, but let’s just say he takes care of the odd jobs and leave it at that.”

“I don’t like labels,” Chris grumbled, “I defy description.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Steve patted him consolingly, trying to contain his smirk at Annie’s exaggerated eye roll.  

Jared dipped his head, eyes averted to the floor. “Good morning. It’s very nice to meet you,” he greeted softly, quickly turning back to the skillet to prevent breakfast from burning. He heard half-hearted welcomes from behind him, but chose to concentrate on finishing the meal.

A few minutes later there was a quiet presence at his side and the smell of something sweet he vaguely remembered from his childhood drifted to him under the scent of his cooking. He looked over to see a beautiful, well-dressed woman standing beside him with an inviting smile on her face. “Good morning, Jared. My name is Sophia.”

There was an ornate bracelet encircling her wrist, a black onyx stone etched with a stylized peacock set in the polished silver – the symbol of the Companion House on Demeter. He’d seen it once before on the headmistress when she’d attended a dinner party at Oiran, one where he’d been asked to…serve at. His manners, ingrained from years of training, were forgotten and his mouth blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re a Companion?” He flicked a glance to Misha, wondering how a man of God felt about sharing the same space as a hired pleasurer. It had been years since he’d been instructed on Scripture, his life on Osiris before his appointment to Oiran a distant memory, but he was certain that somewhere within the black and red words there was condemnation of that time-honored profession.  The preacher was watching them; however, his face was fond and his thoughts affectionate. Nowhere did he sense the denunciation or censure he expected.

“Yes, I am,” Sophia answered simply, not a hint of offense at Jared’s bluntness. “Can I _help_ you?” Her eyes slowly took in his face and he felt the need to squirm under her intense scrutiny. Her emotions were subdued, guarded, and trying to latch onto them was like grabbing smoke. There was a tickling at the base of his neck, the same feeling he got from Milo right before his brother had an epiphany. It made him uneasy and he shook his head, “No, thank you.” He moved to the cabinets at the end of the galley style kitchen to gather the plates.

He carried them to the table and began to arrange the place settings, maneuvering around those already gathered there.  Their friendly banter was soothing to his nerves, a few of their quick witted jabs causing the corners of his lips to twitch upward behind the curtain of his bangs. They asked him questions and he replied without embellishment, knowing from experience that most people would rather not hear ten words when one would suffice. He felt Milo before he saw him, his brother’s emotions an odd chaos of his default worry mixed with exasperation and annoyance. Jared turned toward the doorway when he knew Milo would appear and smiled as the reason for his brother’s irritation followed him through it. 

Alona was bright-eyed and cheerful, two things that Milo definitely was not upon waking. She was chatting non-stop, gesturing wildly to illustrate her point, about Persephone – a comfort topic, Jared realized, when she was nervous – more than making up for Milo’s lack of participation in the conversation. Even though his brother was doing his best to distance himself from the perky blonde, citing his responsibility to Jared as his sole focus, Jared knew that his brother was taken with the young woman. His heart warmed at the thought that Alona might be a perfect match for his surly sibling.

“Good morning everyone!” Alona took a seat at the table, grinning at the greeting she received in response.

Milo crossed to the kitchen and placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Jared nodded, reaching up to pat Milo’s hand in reassurance. The crew seemed nice, but he was a tad overwhelmed at the cacophony of emotions they projected  - from Sophia’s demure repression to Chris’s bold crudeness. Most carried a low level of aggression with them that frightened Jared, knowing how easily those emotions could rise to the surface, but he could sense their compassion too and that calmed his nerves. Refusing to add to the weight of worry in his brother’s eyes, he kept his thoughts light-hearted. 

Stirring the meal one last time and deeming it ready, Jared cleared his throat tentatively. “D-does…” the moment he spoke the word, the attention of the entire room focused on him and he felt exposed in the sudden silence. Milo’s hand rested warm and comforting on the small of his back and he swallowed. “D-does the captain usually take his meals with you?”

“Yes, he does.” Jensen’s voice filled the quiet as he descended the stairs and took his place at the head of the table. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to send a message off about a delivery.” At Annie’s frown of concern he shook his head.

Jared shooed Milo toward his seat and carried a pot in each hand to the table, setting them on pads he’d placed there earlier. There were appreciative groans at the scent and at least one stomach grumbled happily. Jared took Jensen’s plate and began to dish a portion, only to be stopped by Jensen’s hand on his forearm. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through him and he had the overwhelming urge to crawl in the captain’s lap and rub and writhe until they were both sweaty and satiated. He scrunched his brows wondering where that thought had come from.

“Jared,” Jensen smiled, “You cooked and no one expects you to wait on them hand and foot.”

“You – you don’t wish for me to serve you?” He shivered as his mind flashed images of other ways he could serve the captain. 

“No,” Jensen answered honestly.

Jared nodded. Guardedly he slipped his arm out from under Jensen’s too warm hand and set the half-full plate on the table. He quietly stepped back from the table and walked to the kitchen, steps silent so he wouldn’t disturb those eating. He lifted the dirty pan from the stove and carried it to the sink, slipping it into the metal basin.

“Jared.” Jensen’s voice was laced in exasperation and Jared looked up to see everyone watching him. His heart raced wondering what he’d done, mind cataloguing every word he’d spoken and move he’d made trying to discover his offense. “Please sit down,” Jensen motioned to the chair next to Milo at the other end of the table. 

“You want me to sit?” Jared brows furrowed again. He didn’t understand. Consorts didn’t eat until those they served had eaten their fill and they never sat at the table. Jared bit his bottom lip, unsure if this was a test. Consorts were meant to serve in whatever fashion they were needed, but the captain’s face, when he dared a glance, was open and honest. He slowly made his way to the empty seat, all the while prepared for chastisement or punishment for forgetting his place.

Jensen picked up the bowl and finished filling it before he passed the dish to Annie, grabbing the other pot and doing the same. Head downcast, Jared held his breath waiting for the captain to take his first bite. Jensen’s eyes shot open wide as he rolled the first forkful around his mouth and Jared trembled over what the expression meant. Those same green eyes fluttered shut and Jensen’s mouth lifted in a pleased smile as he chewed, head nodding. 

“So good, Jared,” Jensen mumbled around another mouthful.

Jared’s breath left him in a rush and he took a relieved sigh. He returned Sophia’s smile when she passed him the bowl. “Thank you,” he whispered, dishing half of what he would normally eat onto his plate before handing the bowl to his brother. He didn’t want Jensen to rethink how much of a burden he and Milo would be by taking too much.

Milo frowned and quirked an eyebrow, his displeasure clearly evident without the need of Jared’s ability. He added two more spoonfuls to Jared’s plate before fixing his own and passing the dish to Alona.

Jensen watched the interaction. He’d known that the portion Jared had taken wasn’t enough to fill him, would hardly be enough to fill Alona or Sophia, and was making a move to stand and rectify it when Milo had added more. It was fascinating watching the two of them. Twins were a rarity, especially on the Rim Worlds where the birth of one child was miraculous, but a multiple was unheard of.  He saw Jared place two fingers on Milo’s hand and Milo respond in kind with a flick of his thumb. There was a connection there, more deep-seeded than any sibling bond he’d ever seen, and if Jensen was being honest with himself he was slightly jealous. 

The moment passed and once all the plates were filled, everyone dug into their meal. Eyes popped wide and groans echoed over the scraping of forks on ceramic as all traces of the food disappeared. Jared blushed over each compliment and nodded his head meekly when Alona exclaimed loudly that he had to show her how he made it taste so good. The bowls made another round, seconds heaped on each plate, and Jared made a mental note to make a larger quantity the following day.

“Jared,” Misha began, picking up his fork, “from what Milo tells us, you are very blessed to have such a kind, caring brother to watch over you. We should all be so lucky.”

Jared looked over at Milo who nodded reassuringly. “I agree,” he said softly.

“Not sure I do,” Chris mumbled.

“What makes you say that?” Annie asked suspiciously before she could think better of it. She could see that Jared was unsure and uneasy around them and she hoped that she hadn’t provided Chris the opportunity to promote his incestuous belief.  

"If he’s such a good, caring brother, then why’d he lock Jared in a crate…naked? You gotta admit that's not natural for brotherly love" Chris prodded, a scowl on his face. 

"What are you implying, exactly?" Milo asked, his voice dangerously low. 

The man folded his arms, tipping back in his chair to balance on the back legs. "You tell me."

"I love Jared, he's my brother…my everything. He's my world," Milo finished up. His voice was flat but the soothing way he ran his hands up and down Jared’s back spoke volumes.

"I knew it!" Chris crowed, the chair thudding down on all four legs. "Holy shit! You're rutting brothers who are lovers." 

Milo froze and Jared’s head lifted up of its own accord to stare. _Why does he think we’re lovers?_ He looked at Milo.

The brunette man stared, head cocked to the side as he considered the brothers. "You know... that's gorram (goddamn) kinky even for me, and I _like_ my kink! You can ask Steve here. We get up to all sorts…never had siblings involved though,” he muttered, brows drawn together in thought. His face cleared and his eyes turned hopeful. “Can I watch if I'm real quiet?"

Steve groaned and Sophia rolled her eyes. The lust Jared felt from the man made a shiver run down his spine. It was followed quickly by a shudder, the thought of Milo, of all people, doing that to him was almost more than he could bear. 

" _Excuse_ me?” Milo said, eyes flashing.

"You're hot and you're related," Chris shrugged. "I wanna watch. Betcha even the preacher there wouldn’t mind a peek.” He ignored Misha choking on his drink at the words and continued, “I'll be real quiet, I swear, I won't even touch him or nothing, less you're open to that too, cause this brother of yours is mighty fine, so I get it, if he were my brother I'd jump him too." 

"Christian, don't be so crude!" Sophia scolded. "Nobody does that!"

"Is this what you’re wanting to see?” Milo asked. Chucking a finger under Jared’s chin, he forced it up and leaned in close to Jared until their lips were mere centimeters apart.

Jared stared at him in disbelief, fear rocketing through his chest. Not Milo. Please, not him too. _What are you doing?!_  Milo playfully winked at him like he used to when they were younger and played a prank on Nikolai or Giselle. Jared tried to relax, but a niggling doubt kept him on guard.

Chris nodded at the elegant woman. "See? And loads of people do it, they just don't talk about it is all. Besides what about them brothers we had on the ship a few months back? That older one was banging the younger one non-stop. You could hear 'em though the walls going at it for _hours_ , and they were full blood brothers and everything!"

"So there was one exception," Jensen reluctantly agreed. "But they were heroes on their planet. I think that makes up for it, right, preacher?" He turned to Misha, smirking as the preacher man almost rolled his eyes at the question. 

“I believe it is between God and his angels who he saves from perdition,” Misha answered, taking another bite of his dinner.

"So," Chris eyed them thoughtfully. "Who tops?"

Jared jerked back from his too-close brother and felt all the blood drain from his face. Even Milo looked startled.

"I'm just curious! The pretty ones are always wild in bed, but if I was being fucked by my brother he'd be older... so which one of you is older? I'm guessing it's psycho boy here. Can't quite see your pretty boy brother topping, looks like he'd snap like a twig.  Bet you hafta be gentle with him," Chris leered; gaze distant as if he was picturing it in his mind’s eye.

Milo just stared at the mercenary, unable to process what was coming out of his mouth. Steve looked bright red and was trying to hide his eyes while Jensen sighed as if he'd dealt with this far too often and needed to bang his head against something.  Misha, Annie, Sophia and Alona shoved their food around on their plates as if the answers to the big questions of the Verse were hidden under the remnants.

"How did your brain even learn human speech?” Milo gawked at Chris. “I'm just curious."

They were spared from having to hear his answer by a beep on the comm panel. Alona stood, glad to be away from the strange conversation, and checked the screen. “Message from Mark Sheppard, captain.”

“That’s us.” Jensen rose, kicking the leg of Annie’s chair. “Wonder what that ole badger wants.”

“Nothing good for us, I’m sure, sir.” Annie wiped her mouth on her napkin.

Jensen stood. “Breakfast was great, Jared. Thank you. Chris, you can do the dishes as a reminder to watch that foot-in-mouth disease of yours. I expect this to be the last conversation we have regarding incestuous relationships. My patience with that topic and your obsession with it are drawing to a close.” He leveled a hard glare at Chris before heading toward the bridge, Annie in tow.

 

*****

 

“This is bad.” Jensen slumped in his seat, head lolled back. He stared at the ceiling, eyes following the seams between tiles and dancing over the rivets, and thought over their new predicament.  He’d just barely resolved their last situation.

“If Sheppard’s right, then we’ve shot right past bad into full on rutted.” Annie leaned back against the console and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Man’s got a penchant for lying especially when the truth don’t benefit him much,” Jensen quirked a hopeful eyebrow at her.

Annie shook her head. “He’s usually got an ear to the ground, though. Ain’t nobody in the verse that knows more about smuggling deals than him. He’s smart and savvy. He wouldn’t have contacted us unless he was pretty confident of his information.”

“I’m smart and savvy,” Jensen protested.

“Wouldn’t go that far. I’d say you’re more pretty and sexy with a healthy side helping of lucky,” Annie smirked.

“We gotta figure a way to get some gold fast,” Jensen huffed out a breath. “Alona’s milking every drop of fuel for what it’s worth, but the well’s gonna run dry soon.  Round up Chris and Steve. They might know someone who’d be able to help us out with a quick job.”

Annie pushed herself up from her lean. “Yes sir.”

 

****

 

“So, the goods that we are carrying to Quinto have been marked by the Alliance?” Steve plopped down into his pilot’s chair, foot accidentally hitting the leg of the navigation panel and jostling his dinosaur figurines. 

“According to Sheppard they have,” Jensen nodded, “If Quinto tries to unload them, he’ll be crawling with Alliance soldiers.”  

“That’s a good thing, right?” Chris looked from Steve to Jensen to Annie. “Better him than us.”

“Except where he evades arrest and comes gunning for us,” Annie explained grimly. “Ain’t seen too many people come out on the right side of good once he got a hold of them. Last person who botched a job went missing for three days and when he was found, his crew was able to ship his body home in a vegetable crate.”

Chris and Steve blanched.

“And that was his nephew,” Jensen added.

Steve turned from white to green. “Remind me again why we’re working for this guy.”

Jensen shrugged. “It was a simple job and Quinto paid half up front.”

“Right,” Steve reached over and righted the stegosaurus that had fallen over. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We need a job,” Jensen paced the room. “Something quick with a decent payout. Then we head to some of the more rustic Rim planets and see about unloading those marked crates. If we’re lucky, we can get enough to pay back the advance that Quinto gave us for that job and if we’re really lucky, he won’t torture us for failing to deliver.”

Chris shifted on his feet. “I know a way we can get a cargo hold full of coin in a hurry with little effort.”

“How’s that?” Jensen turned curious eyes on the stocky man.

“Thems Flynn boys have a might decent reward on their heads. Enough to see us all into old age,” Chris reasoned. “It’d only take one call and we’d be knee deep in gold before you could say psycho psychic.” 

“No,” Jensen responded without consideration.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“You heard him,” Annie’s posture changed slightly, her muscles tensing and her shoulders squaring. “The captain ain’t prone to stuttering.”

“This ain’t just about him, though,” Chris protested, face flushing in his anger. “I’m being practical. Quinto’s gonna be coming for all of us. If it’s a choice between my neck or those of a couple of Core brats…” He trailed off.

“No,” Jensen repeated.

“Just because you’re trying to separate Jared from his gorram (goddamn) pants, don’t mean we all gotta suffer Quinto’s blade,” Chris yelled.

“Chris, you’re talking outta turn,” Steve admonished. “Jen would never risk the crew.”

“Then why else would he care? They ain’t nothin’ to him! Milo lies as easy as breathing and there’s something not right about Jared. I think they’re both touched in the head.”

“And you’re not?!” Annie spat.

“Why, Jensen?” Chris turned to him, “What is it about him?”

“I gave my word,” Jensen said, lowly, evenly. “I promised them refuge and that’s what I’m aiming to give ‘em.”

“Who cares if you gave ‘em your word? Talk is cheap and their pretty, tight asses are worth a lot.”

“I care,” Jensen seethed, his temper getting the best of him before he could rein it in. “If a man ain’t got his word, he ain’t got nothin’. I may be a smuggler and a thief, but my word is gold.”

“But…”

“This ain’t up for any more discussion.” Jensen raised a hand to halt Chris’ argument. “There’ll be no selling out of Jared and Milo. If y’all have another idea, I’m all ears. Otherwise, we all have jobs to do and we need to see to ‘em.”

Nodding, Steve turned around in his chair, scanning the read-outs.  Annie stood and, reluctantly, Chris followed her.

“Chris?” Jensen stopped him as he approached the doorway. “I’ll be monitoring outgoing communications. I’d hate to find something I’m not looking for.”

Chris’s eyes tightened and he gave a curt nod, stepping into the hallway. Jensen sighed and stared out the window at the black void of space. “Well, that was a whole heap of unpleasantness.”

Steve snorted and fiddled with a few of the dials, keeping Persephone on the most direct course to Ariel.

 

****

Jensen walked into the dining room, a pleasant scent lulling him there just as it had that morning. Milo and Jared were moving around each other in a fluid grace in the kitchen while Annie, Misha and Alona set the table.  Chris had been scarce since their row earlier that day, preferring to lick his wounds in his and Steve’s bunk. Jensen considered it a mixed blessing, knowing that if they had another run-in before they both could cool down, it would escalate rapidly. 

Smiling at everyone, Jensen took in Jared. He was still subdued, hesitant and a little shaky on his feet, but there was a healthy flush to his skin and a tentative smile danced along his lips. Jensen couldn’t deny that the kid was gorgeous, but there was a hurt there just beneath the surface that he longed to erase. Even if he’d agreed with Chris’s reasoning, he knew he could never turn Jared in. Not when everything inside him was screaming for him to protect Jared.

There was a loud clap and Steve appeared from the direction of the bridge. “Sophia got off safely. She’s meeting that regular on Arachne then she’ll rendezvous with us on Ariel.”

“Which one is on Arachne?” Jensen asked, sauntering over to the kitchen to peer around Jared’s shoulder at the bubbling concoction on the stove. Jared shifted a small bit, causing his arm to rub slightly against Jensen’s chest. Jensen jerked back from the younger man, his eyes catching on Misha’s quirked eyebrow. The preacher’s eyes practically flashing ‘special hell’ in electric blue. He cleared his throat lightly and moved to the other side of the counter, putting a respectful distance between him and Jared. 

“The land baron,” Alona paused from placing silverware by each plate and rested her forearms on the back of the chair in front of her. “The one that bought her that slinky red dress.” She smoothed a hand down her hips to accentuate her meaning.  She sighed, her gaze distant. “It must be so glamorous being a Companion. Rich, handsome people taking you to nice meals and giving you pretty gifts.” 

Jensen harrumphed, rolling his eyes.  “If you can stomach what they want you to give ‘em in return.”

Jensen and Alona continued to discuss the pros and cons of the Companion lifestyle, Annie taking the remaining silverware from the mechanic before her emphatic gesticulating sent them flying to the floor. Misha, smiling fondly at the two, came back over to the kitchen searching for glasses and noticed Jared staring unblinkingly into the pot he was stirring. 

“Are you alright, Jared?” He stepped up to the young man.

Jared startled, the spoon he was using clanking loudly against the metal pot. “Um, yeah,” Jared smiled slightly, “Just a little lost in thought, I guess.”

Misha peered at Jared, considering. “Are you sure?”

Jared dipped his head, bangs falling forward to obscure his eyes and the pink tint to his cheeks. His head darted back and forth, checking the distance to those around them. “C-can…can I ask you sssomething, p-preacher?” He whispered.

“Of course.” Misha stepped closer, understanding that Jared wished their conversation to be kept between them.

“D-does it bother you? S-Sophia doing what she does?”  Jared asked softly.

“Why would it?”

Jared turned wide, surprised eyes toward the holy man. “You don’t believe she’s wicked? Her s-s-soul doomed to hellfire and brimstone?” 

Misha deliberated for a moment, studying the young man. “No, Jared, I don’t. Do you?”

Jared dropped his gaze back to his cooking. Licking his lips, he shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, not her.”

“Why are you ask…” Misha’s question was cut off by a loud cry. 

Jared and Misha turned to see Chris sprawled across the floor with Milo kneeling on his chest, a large knife glinting menacingly in his right hand.  Furniture scraped and surprise calls echoed in the air as the rest of the crew recovered from the sudden turn of events.

“Milo,” Jensen called, his voice dipping in authority and Jared felt his knees try to fold of their own accord. “Get off him.”

Milo leaned over Chris’s head. “I know what you wanted to do,” he hissed. He drew the knife across Chris’s chest, a red line springing up in its wake. He pressed the honed edge to Chris’s throat. “How would you like _me_ to decide between our necks and yours?”

Chris’s eyes went wide at his words twisted and thrown back to him. “I – I.”

The knife pressed down harder, enough to indent the skin but not break it. Milo’s eyes narrowed, intent clear in the brown depths.

“Milo,” Jensen warned, the sound of his gun cocking loud in the room.

Milo tilted his head toward Jensen, eyes never wavering from the supine man beneath him. “You know what he wanted to do to us,” he grit out. “To Jared.” Hate glittered in Milo’s eyes, backlit by an inner rage.

Things were tense, Milo’s steady hand holding the knife threateningly against Chris’s skin and Jensen and Annie’s level grip training their guns unerringly at Milo’s head. It was a stand-off, nobody dared to move, barely breathed for fear of unleashing the promised hell.

“Milo,” the voice was soft, but held a confident authority that no one that heard in it before. “Don’t.”

The knife jerked back, creating a minute amount of space between the sharp edge and tender skin. A whisper of wind shifted between them and raised goose flesh on Chris’s sweaty throat. Milo’s eyes shut and his jaw tensed. “Jared, you don’t know.”

Jared moved through the frozen people standing witness and placed his hand on Milo’s shoulder, thumb grazing a slow arch over the phoenix tattoo inked there. “Let him go,” he said calmly.

“Fen?”

Using gentle pressure, Jared turned his twin toward him. He cupped Milo’s face in his large hands and pressed their foreheads together.  “Gēgē (brother), it’s all right.” Milo’s body relaxed slightly and Jared let his hand drift down to remove the knife from his brother’s slack grip. The two men stared at each other in silence and Jensen got the distinct impression there was some internal conversation going on.  

Milo nodded his head and slowly got off Chris, a feigned kick to the ribs causing the older man to flinch. Refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, Milo quietly left the dining room, headed in the direction of the passenger quarters. 

Jared looked around at the stunned crew and bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Jared,” Jensen stepped forward, “It’s okay.”

“The hell it is!” Chris roared, one hand pressed to his still bleeding chest. “Jen, you can’t allow that kuang (madman) to run loose on this ship. He deserves for the Alliance to have him.” Jensen noticed Jared start trembling at Chris’s words. “He pert near did me in.” Chris showed him his red slicked palm.

Jensen moved closer to Jared, hands itching to comfort, to soothe Jared’s obviously frayed nerves. “You’ll want to step carefully or next time I might be inclined to let him finish the job.”

“You’re bleeding.” The same soft voice, but without the confidence it held earlier. Jared pointed at the freely bleeding slash across Chris’s chest. “I-I can stitch that for you.” Jared’s eyes flew to the ground, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “If you want.”

Chris glared at the young man. “Ain’t like I got much choice. You and that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of yours are the docs and seeing hows he’s the one that did the bleedin’, you should be the one to do the fixin’.”

Jared nodded his head and quietly exited the dining room, headed for the Infirmary. Chris grimaced as he made his way to his feet, Jensen coming up beside him with a helping hand hooked under his arm. “Here, I’ll escort you.”

 

*****

Chris lay back on the exam table, squinting against the light overhead. “You know what you’re doing, right? The medical part of your brain ain’t still in the deep freeze, is it?”

“I’m more than capable,” Jared said lowly, opening drawers and rifling through the contents to find what he needed. He set his supplies down on a small rolling table and moved it closer to the supine man. “If you’d prefer, I could go get that xīnlǐ (psycho) brother of mine to stitch you up.”

Jensen turned his head slightly to the side to hide his smirk. It was the first time he’d seen any type of personality from Jared, other than the submissive one that seemed most predominant, and if Jensen was being honest with himself…he really liked this side of Jared.

“Fuck no!” Chris protested, hissing when Jared swiped a swab soaked in anti-septic over the open wound. “Just be careful.”

“Yes, Jared” Jensen grinned, leaning against the wall, “be careful. We can’t have an unsightly scar mussing all that prettiness.” He winked at Jared and was rewarded with the slightest upturn of a smile.  Jensen watched as Jared threaded the needle and bent over Chris’s form.  Jared’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath and Jensen watched the shakiness that had been plaguing the other man’s hands since his removal from the crate slip away.  Here Jared was in his element, comfortable in his own skin – for the first time since he’d been on board and probably, Jensen would guess, the first time in a long time. 

Chris winced as the needle pierced skin. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ain’t you gonna give me something to numb the pain?”

Jared’s eyes flicked up to Chris and his hand stilled. “The supplies are low and should only be used for serious wounds. I figured a strong, strapping man like yourself would have no problem with a couple dozen stitches. If I was wrong, I could get you something.”

Chris chest puffed out and he grimaced when the motion pulled at the edges of his cut. “I’m good. You can finish.”

“As you wish.” Jared ducked his head and Jensen could swear he saw a genuine smile hidden behind Jared’s bangs. Jared worked in silence, each stitch small and neat, completed with the exacting precision of the truly skilled. Jensen wondered how much training Jared had received before his life was decided for him.

“Your brother always been a little bats in the belfry?” Chris asked; pulling Jensen from his hypnotized state as he watched Jared’s fingers deftly create a line of tight, even sutures.

Jared’s progress stopped as he looked at the man again. “Yes.” Jared tied off the last stitch and smoothed a bandage over his work. “I’ll check them in a few days and see if they’ll be ready for removal.”

Chris rubbed his hand over the white bandage and considered Jared grudgingly. “You done good work. Just keep a leash on your butcher brother.”

Jared dipped his head in a nod and began cleaning up the instruments and trash. Chris grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt and got off the table. Walking past Jensen, he held out the now worthless scrap of cloth. “My favorite shirt!”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on,” Jensen clapped him on the back. “Go up to the dining room. I’m sure Steve made them leave you some.” 

 

*****

Jared concentrated on putting away the unused items and setting the forceps and needle in the sanitizer, listening to Chris’s heavy footfalls going up the ladder to the dining room. He could feel Jensen’s gaze on his back like a warm weight and his body flushed. The crew of the Persephone kept the ship entirely too warm.

“Jared, about Milo,” Jensen began, wondering what was the best track to take.

Jared pressed his palms to the metal counter in front of him. “I was always the weak one growing up,” Jared whispered, staring at the patch of stainless steel between his splayed hands. “Too emotional, too sensitive, easily manipulated, easily exploited.” He shook his head and Jensen moved closer to hear him better. “My father used to say that if I insisted on wearing my heart on my sleeve that I deserved it when someone stabbed me in it. Milo was the strong one. He was always there protecting me, defending me against bullies, classmates…our family. It’s instinct, ingrained.  He perceives that I’m in danger and his first reaction is to nullify that threat. I’m sorry that he hurt one of your crew, but I believe in my heart that he had a good reason.”

Jensen closed his eyes, Jared couldn’t be more right.

“If you want us off your ship, I understand.” Jared’s head hung low between his slumped shoulders.

“I don’t want you off, but Milo is going to have to learn to corral this protective side some. I have to look out for the safety of my crew and as much as it pains me to admit that Chris is right, I can’t have Milo attacking them.”

Jared nodded. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but you have my word that I will do everything I can to prevent it.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Jensen reached out and took a chance, gently wrapping his fingers around Jared’s forearm. He jolted slightly at the shock when their skin touched, but didn’t release his hold. “I’m sure there is some food left. Why don’t we go and see what we can wrangle up?”

Jared’s whole body felt like he’d been dipped in boiling water, skin prickling at the intense heat as something thick and molten settled low in his stomach. His body pulsated with an insistent thrum that sped up his heart and breathing. His shoulder gave another painful throb. “I – I’ll be up in a m-minute,” he tried not to pant, his back still to Jensen. “Y-you go ahead.”

Jensen noted the return of the stutter and his heart sunk. He’d really hoped that they’d progressed past the nervousness that Jared seemed taken by whenever they talked. “Okay, Jared.” Jensen squeezed the muscled limb and let go. At the door, he turned back around. “For what it’s worth? I don’t think you’re weak.”

Jared heard Jensen leave the room and ascend the stairs. He let out a deep sigh, his body still aflame. Fanning himself with his hand, he started toward his quarters. He needed to find something cooler to wear.

 


	5. The Virgin and The Whore

Persephone lumbered through the black, churning engines eating up the distance to Ariel slightly faster than they were drinking the fuel supply. Jensen’s eyes carefully watched the fuel levels with each passing mile. Three days had passed since Sheppard had sent word and they’d yet to hear from Quinto or any of his crew. Either the ruthless bastard didn’t know about the crates being marked, something Jensen found hard to believe, or he was waiting to see if Jensen would deliver the traceable cargo. Their wellspring of contacts had run dry in regards to viable leads on quick, profitable jobs and Jensen had become prone to pacing whatever area he was occupying. And Jared wasn’t helping matters any.

At first the young man had been withdrawn, shied away from everyone’s touch, especially Jensen’s, but lately there’d been a change. It was gradual, so subtle that if you weren’t paying close attention to the kid, you could easily miss it. Despite his best efforts, Jensen paid attention. Jared stopped pulling away, stopped dodging casual touches and had actually started seeking them out. As Jared grew bolder, his confidence increasing, Jensen noticed other changes as well.

As Jensen kept a weathered eye on the dwindling fuel tanks, his other eye was preoccupied with cataloguing the progressively decreasing layers of clothes the young man wore. He overhead Jared claim that the ship was too hot, even though most folk considered space travel to be cold, when Milo questioned his change in wardrobe. Sturdy cotton and canvas had been exchanged for linen and, in the end that had proven too warm as today Jensen came into the dining room for breakfast to see Jared at the stove in the lightest weight silk, the design and cut providing teasing glances of tanned skin and lean muscle. It was driving Jensen to distraction and that wasn’t even taking into account the way Jared had been acting.

Jared had taken to flirting, the brunt of his attention focused on the male complement of the crew. Even Misha and Jared’s own brother hadn’t been spared the coy advances. He was a confusing mix of hooker and virgin, one minute teasing and giggling with shy smiles and bitten lips, the next body exuding a careless sexuality that his hooded eyes promised it could deliver. The skin and muscle – sweet mother of all, the skin – on display coupled with this new touchy-feely Jared was having an effect on the majority of the crew. Even Annie, whose eye tended to wander more to the curvier side of sex, had been caught staring a little too intently. Only Milo, blood making him immune, and Alona who had her eyes set on a different Padalecki, seemed oblivious to Jared’s newly acquired charms.

Just that morning Jared had bent over to get a pan from the bottom cupboard, his elastic-waist pants slipping low and showcasing the upper curve of his ass, and Chris had fallen off his chair. Jensen had a mind to put a stop to it, just as soon as he figured out what _it_ was. 

 

*****

 

Jared shifted on the bed, legs steadily working the blanket down and off his overly warm body. He rolled forward, hips flush with the bed, a gasped, fingers curling into the edge of his pillow and the sheet as dreams of calloused hands and plush lips caressing his skin, the smell of gun oil and leather, transcended the imaginary to cause a physical reaction. He rotated his hips, a low moan breaking free at the friction where it was wanted most and, underneath it all, a pulsing throb in his shoulder timed perfectly with his racing heart.

“Jensen,” he breathed, grinding harder into the mattress.

Jensen stood outside the sliding paper door to Jared’s room with no recollection of consciously deciding to go there. He’d been in the Engine Room talking to Alona about what systems could be shut down to conserve fuel without risking crew safety. Coming to the disappointing conclusion there weren’t any, he’d decided to go to bed. He remembered leaving the Engine Room when he’d had the feeling he was being called, that he was needed…desperately. Next thing he knew, he was in front of Jared’s door barely containing the urge to fling the flimsy barrier open.

Through the vellum, he heard a low throaty groan and his eyes slipped closed as the sound slid down his body and made his knees weak.

“Jensen.”

His name floated through the thin door, his eyes fluttering as he felt like the word was pressed into his skin. Breathing speeding up in anticipation and arousal, his hand drifted up, fingers curling around the handle.

Behind him there was the crash of a door sliding forcibly in its track and connecting hard with the casing. He started, glassy eyes snapping open to see Milo staring at him.

Milo’s eyes zeroed in on Jensen’s hand on Jared’s door and narrowed. “Captain,” he leveled a glare at Jensen, “is there something that you needed?”

Jensen blinked, mind confused and body thrumming with desire and want. “I, uh… No,” he shook his head. “Just thought I heard something. Was worried Jared had taken ill.”

Another moan carried from the room and Jensen’s fingers tightened on the handle. Milo turned toward the door, frown pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“If you don’t need anything, I think I should check on my brother.” Milo’s scrutinizing gaze flicked over Jensen, catching every detail – the dilated pupils, the rapid breathing, the white knuckled grip.

“Yeah,” Jensen still felt off, mind sluggishly working through the last vestiges of lust fogging it.

“You wanna let go of the door?”

Jensen snatched his hand back, rubbing it over the nape of his neck nervously. “Sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “Need help?”

Milo slid Jared’s door open and stepped through, using his body to block Jared from the captain’s view. “I don’t think so. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my brother myself.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Good night, Captain. Thank you for your concern.” Milo slid the door shut before Jensen could say another word, leaving the other man staring blankly.

Milo crossed to Jared’s bed where his brother moved restlessly. The blankets had been kicked to the floor and despite the cool temperature of the room and Jared’s thin sleep pants, Jared’s skin was slick with sweat.

Milo concentrated, tried to glean from Jared’s mind what the dream was about so he could best decide how to wake him, but the thoughts and images were a chaotic jumble. It was like Jared was dreaming in colors and Milo could only understand music. It was disconcerting. Milo felt along the bond they shared but all he received from his brother was a measured pounding, a drumbeat that drowned everything else out.

For the first time in a long time, Milo felt real fear. Jared had always been an open book to him. Yes, they had developed the ability to shield themselves from each other, but it wasn’t something they did often. “Jared?” He reached out and grasped a fevered shoulder, shaking it. “Wake up, Fen.”

Jared didn’t respond, still caught in his dream. Milo tugged until Jared was on his back. Jared moaned again, a longing sound of need edged in pain, and Milo clutched both his shoulders, shaking him hard. “Fen! Wake up!”

Jared’s eyes flew open and he shot upright on the bed. His hands came up lightning fast and grabbed Milo by the face, pulling him closer until their lips met in a hard kiss.

Milo was stunned, muscles frozen in inaction by shock. Jared moaned, the sound vibrating against Milo’s slack lips and rousing his addled mind. He gently, but firmly pushed Jared away. “Fen, stop!”

Jared ignored Milo’s plea diving back into Milo’s mouth, forcing his tongue past protesting lips, like a sinner and Milo’s mouth was his salvation. His fingers clawed desperately at Milo’s shirt, seeking the edge and delving underneath with he found it.

Milo reared back, forcing the kiss to break and clasping Jared’s questing hands in his own. “Fen, stop now!”

Undeterred Jared lurched forward, pushing bodily into Milo. Ordinarily, Jared’s act would have had little effect on his brother – Milo the bulkier twin – but he had the element of surprise on his side and was able to knock his sibling flat on the bed. “Please, Mi, kiss me. I need you, you’re the only one I can trust.” Desperate touches ran over Milo’s body, grabbing, clasping, frantically seeking a handhold. “I know what to do, I can be so good for you.”  Milo struggled under Jared’s weight pinning him down, holding back for fear of hurting his brother, dodging Jared’s persistent advances. When Jared ground his hardened member down on Milo’s thigh, Milo finally applied force and threw his brother off.

Jared landed on the floor with a hard thud and Milo laid on the bed, breath heaving from exertion and guilt. The staccato beat that had monopolized their bond died down, fading until it disappeared, confused questions flooding in to take its place.

“Milo?” Jared’s voice floated up from the floor and Milo climbed to the edge of the bed to peer down at him. “What happened?”

Milo swallowed and brought up the walls he’d learned to construct years ago to hide his emotions from Jared. Yeah, they didn’t use them often, but now seemed as good a time as any. He’d spent the entirety of his teenage years being trained, life regimented and juvenile exploration curbed. It was more than a little disturbing that his first sexual encounter, his first kiss, was at the lips of his brother. Without his shielding, Jared would too easily pick up on his unease especially since it was coupled with the worry over exactly how Jared ‘knew what to do’. He forced a reassuring smile and held out his hand. “You had a nightmare. I tried to wake you up and it got a little intense. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“A nightmare?” Jared took his brother’s hand and got up from the floor. He couldn’t remember a nightmare. He sought out the comfort of their bond and frowned at the barrier he felt in return. It wasn’t unusual for Milo to shield himself when Jared had a nightmare, too often they’d both been pulled into the terror and fear, but it hadn’t happened since they were young. The nightmare must have been bad for Milo to feel he needed to protect himself. Once back on the bed, he rolled his shoulders trying to lessen the ache there.

“Yeah,” Milo bumped their shoulders together.

Jared noticed the red skin on Milo’s arms and the visible portion of his chest, undoubtedly earned while trying to wake him. He traced a finger under one underlining the phoenix tattoo on Milo’s deltoid. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Milo bolstered his mental walls and clapped Jared on the knee. “Nothing to worry about. You didn’t do anything to me.”

 

*****

Jensen stood on the catwalk above the cargo bay, forearms resting on the rail. Below, Chris and Annie were going over supplies, making a list of things they needed to stock up on once they got to Ariel. In the corner, Jared was reclined back on the workout bench, slender arms shaking with the effort to raise and lower the weight. Jensen tried to keep his gaze averted, but his attention kept being drawn back to the rivulets of sweat running across Jared’s temple to soak into his already damp hair. 

“Nice to see you off the Bridge.”

Startled, Jensen guiltily forced his gaze away from the young man. Misha stood beside him in a well-worn pair of sweatpants and a tank top, his hands clutching the ends of the towel draped around his neck.

“Steve threw me out.” Jensen had the good grace to look sheepish. “Said my pacing was too distracting. So I thought I’d come down here and calm my nerves.”

Misha watched as Jensen tapped the thumb of his right hand against the back of his left. “I see. Still working on achieving inner peace?”

Jensen stopped the movements and shrugged. “It’s a work in progress. What brings you down besides lecturing me?”

“The body’s a temple and I’ve been neglecting mine. With the way Jared cooks, if I don’t watch out, I might have to build an addition.”

“Boy does have a way with a ladle,” Jensen smiled, eyes moving back to the younger man. Jared was straddling the bench now, elbow resting on his thigh as he curled a weight in his right hand. Jensen was lost in the ripple and play of golden skin over the lightly muscled arm.

“I take it that Jared took Milo’s suggestion to find another outlet for his excess energy to heart.” Misha nodded toward the lanky youth still struggling through the repetitions.

 Jensen nodded, grunting, gaze still tracing long lean lines. He’d heard Milo tell Jared the night before at dinner that making use of the ship’s meager offering of workout equipment might be a good way to expend some of his newfound energy. Jensen had his suspicion that even though Milo seemed oblivious to his brother’s recent tendency toward the sultry side, he was very much aware of the change. 

“See something you like?”

Blinking, he turned to find Misha, who’d he’d forgotten, watching him with a knowing gaze. “Just thinking.”

“I can only imagine what about,” Misha’s eyes flicked to Jared. “Those are the thoughts that buy you a one way ticket to Special Hell. You remember me telling you about Special Hell, right, Captain? The place reserved for child molesters and people who spoil the endings of books.”

“I’m not buying a ticket anywhere. Save your fire and brimstone for someone else. You’re wasting breath on me.”

“Yes, well,” Misha cleared his throat, his disbelief evident. “I think I’ll head down while Jared is still there to spot me. Good luck on your efforts to calm down. A cold shower may be in order. I find it helps me.” The shepherd clapped him on the shoulder then made his way down the stairs. 

He crossed beneath Jensen and went over to Jared. Chris started up the four wheeler, checking it over to find a mystery leak that had been leaving puddles on the bay floor, the engine’s noise drowning out all other sound in the cavernous room. Jensen watched as Misha greeted Jared and after a few minutes of conversation, Misha took Jared’s place on the bench. Jared adjusted the weight and stood at Misha’s head, ready to catch the bar if Misha faltered in his benchpress.

Jensen watched in mild interest as Misha did a few reps, quirking an eye when the preacher froze with the barbell extended above him. Jensen could see the tremors running up and down his arms caused from the strain of holding the weight, but Misha seemed either unwilling or unable to lower it. Jared’s mouth moved, but Misha didn’t answer.

Frowning in concern, Jensen took a step toward the stairs, eyes roving over the scene. He stumbled when he noticed Jared was standing closer than necessary to catch a falling weight and his hips were undulating slightly, rolling in minute, lazy figure eights. The fabric of his thin silk shorts caught and dragged through Misha’s hair and one of Jared’s hands was caressing Misha’s shoulder. Anger shot lightning quick through Jensen, his fingers curling over the railing until the knuckles blanched. Misha dropped the weight back on the stand and sat up abruptly. Chris cut off the machine just in time for Jensen to hear Misha stutter out a thank you.

“Anytime, preacher,” Jared’s purr drifted up through the grate under Jensen’s feet. “If you need me for anything else,” his fingers ghosted up Misha’s arm, “just let me know.”

“Jared!” Milo barked from the other end of the bay, Jared recoiling his hand at the sound like he’d been burned. Milo’s assessing eyes flicked between his twin and the preacher, face a mixture of suspicious and wary. “Grab Chris. Those stitches need to come out and princess won’t let me touch him.”

“Coming!” Jared practically sing-songed, sultry mask replaced with one of innocence between one blink and the next.

Jensen tracked Jared as he rubbed his shoulder and walked over to Chris, pulling the surly man from the cargo bay. Looking back once they were out of sight, he glanced over at Misha, forcing his cramping fingers to uncurl from the rail. The shepherd had a bewildered look on his face, the front of his sweat pants tented in a telling way.

Feeling Jensen’s gaze, Misha look up, face flushing.

“All right there, preacher?”

“Y-yes,” Misha rose unsteadily to his feet, trying to surreptitiously rearrange himself. “Think I’ll shower before dinner.”

“You do that,” Jensen smirked. It appeared he’d have company in Special Hell.

 

*****

At dinner, Jared seemed be the same shy boy without a hint of the temptress that had been tormenting everyone. Save the casual brush of a hand over a shoulder or a rub of an arm when passing food, Jared kept to himself. Jensen’s confusion at trying to reconcile this Jared with the tease he’d witnessed before and experienced personally, must have shown on his face. Annie leaned over and whispered quietly. “Everything okay, sir?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

 

*****

 

Jared’s bare feet padded on the cold metal ground, each step carefully placed with catlike silence and grace. He could feel them, their passion and desire drawing him closer. A siren’s promise of relief to the heated urges driving his body that made Jared willing to throw himself on the jagged rocks. He paused outside the door, eyes closing as their lust grew and crashed over him.

Chris had Steve pressed against the navigation console, strong, calloused hands clutching the blonde pilot at the small of the back and nape of the neck. Their bodies were flush from shoulder to groin, legs intertwined and mouths sealed. Every movement, every sigh spoke of barely contained passion, simmering just under the surface and Jared felt crazy with it.

“Come on, Steve,” Chris husked against Steve’s ear when their mouths separated. His hand slipped around the other man’s hip to smooth over his ass on its way to tease along the crack. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Just,” he licked a stripe up the side of Steve’s throat, nipping lightly at the pulse point, “put on the auto-pilot and meet me in our quarters.” He rutted against Steve’s thigh, his own muscled leg sliding against Steve, eliciting a moan from them both.

At the door, Jared bit off an answering moan, his dick throbbing in time with the building need racing through his veins. 

“I just,” Steve panted, head tipped back and words spoken to the ceiling, “Let me…”

“Let you, what? Suck me? Bend over for me?” Chris nibbled his way across Steve’s jaw.

“Aah, let me take care of Persephone real quick…Chris,” he broke off on a groan as Chris’ hand slipped between them to cup his growing interest. “and I’ll be right there.” He whimpered when Chis stepped away.

“If you insist, but don’t be too long” Chris grabbed his own hardness through his pants “or I’ll have to find a way to entertain myself.” Jared ducked into a shadowed recess, watching Chris walk cockily toward the open doorway. 

“Five minutes. Tops.” Steve hurriedly plopped into his chair and pushed random buttons on the panel.

Chris stopped, close to where Jared was hiding, the lust radiating off of him hazing Jared’s mind in an intoxicating musk. “You see to her then,” Chris drawled, “come see to me.”

Jared waited until Chris footsteps no longer echoed down the hall then turned his attention to the frustrated man in the pilot’s seat. Steve cursed as he mistakenly pushed the wrong button in his sexually charged haste and an alarm sounded. He pressed another button and the Bridge once more fell into blessed silence.

Jared stalked forward, deep space quiet, coming up behind Steve and sliding his fingers over the toned muscles of the man’s shoulders. Steve startled, turning in his chair and sighing at the sight of Jared behind him. 

“Jared, you scared me. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Jared purred. “You’re so tense. I think I can help.” He rhythmically squeezed and released the corded muscles under his fingers, smirking at the hum of approval he received.

“Yeah,” Steve snorted, “Don’t think a massage is what I need though.” He flicked two switches on his right, checking the readout on the screen before flipping them back.

Jared leaned close, his breath ghosting over Steve’s ear as he whispered, “Who said anything about a massage?” Jared circled around to the front of the chair, hand dragging a lazy path across the nape of Steve’s neck where Chris’ possessive hand had been mere minutes before.

“Jared? What are…” Steve stared at the young man before him, silenced by one of Jared’s long digits pressing against his lips. Long legs bent and slotted between Steve’s thighs and the arms of the chair, bracketing him as Jared straddled his lap. Steve’s hands, seemingly of their own accord, came up and cupped the bony points of Jared’s hips. The thin fabric of the clothes he’d taken to wearing doing little to hinder the heat emanating from his body.

“Chris isn’t the only one who’s fantasized,” Jared breathed, lips millimeters from Steve’s, “So many curiosities rumbling around in that noggin of yours.” He smoothed his hands over Steve’s broad chest, sliding them up his thick neck to tangle in his curly locks. He tugged gently, exposing Steve’s throat, lips brushing the skin on their way to his ear. “How different my body is than his. What it would feel like under your hands? Lithe flexibility instead of bulky strength.” One hand relinquished its hold on Steve’s hair and clasped the hand on his hip, guiding it under the silk tunic he wore to feel the skin there. “What it would be like to have control? You drive this big ship, you wonder sometimes what it would be like to drive in bed too. If things feel as good from the other side?” His voice took on a sultrier tone with each new sentence. 

“How did you…” Jared rolled his pelvis into Steve’s forcing a gasp from the other man. Steve’s fingers dug into the hips under their pads, holding on as Jared moved fluidly above him.  

“You can, you know,” Jared ignored Steve’s half-spoken question, angling his hips so the hard, hot length in Steve’s pants rubbed against his own. “You can have control, ride me long and hard like a stallion that needs breaking. Anything you want. I’ve been taught things that would blow your mind,” he smirked looking down to where Steve was unconsciously rotating up into Jared’s rolls down, “and other things too.”

“Chris,” Steve managed to choke out. His body responded without permission to Jared’s words and ministrations.

“Nobody said this rodeo had to be exclusive. You’re not as opposed to his threesome idea as you want him to believe.” Jared ran the tip of his nose in a circuitous path over Steve’s face – over his cheeks and forehead, sliding down the side of his nose then nuzzling under his jaw – bypassing his mouth on each pass. “Imagine it, watching me suck Chris off while you bury yourself balls deep in me, a warm tightness that no blowjob could ever compare to. Or maybe my mouth, slick and sloppy, sliding up and down your length while Chris fucks you in that way you like so much. Or a combination of the two? You reaming my ass while Chris reams yours. Each time he thrusts deep into you, it shoves you that much deeper into me.” 

“Wā cào << Holy fuck>>,” Steve growled, fingers twining in Jared’s hair and pulling their mouths together. His tongue swiped over strawberry plush flesh before delving inside.

“You’re five minutes are up. What the hell?”

The writhing bodies in the chair stopped and faces turned toward the hulking figure framed in the doorway. Steve expression was an odd mix of wild-eyed lust and wide-eyed horror while Jared’s needy countenance turned coy.

“We’re willing to share,” Jared quirked an eyebrow at Chris, his lopsided grin, lips swollen and bruised, the epitome of sin. He crooked a finger at the new addition, beckoning him closer. 

Chris approached, eyes fixed where Steve’s pelvis was molded to Jared’s and still moving despite the interruption. When he was close enough, Jared reached back, fisting his hand in Chris’ shirt and pulling him down into a scorching kiss. Jared broke the contact, arching his back and leaning back. Chris watched in awe as Steve’s hands slid up Jared’s back, fingers curling over his shoulders, to support the younger man’s weight. Jared’s head lolled back, his face upside down and even with Chris’ tented crotch. Jared nuzzled his face against the bulge, his chin bumping the leaking tip and his forehead rubbing heavy balls, and mouthed the hard ridge. 

He keened when Steve leaned over his chest, stomach putting pressure on Jared’s burgeoning need causing the supine man to buck, and sucked on a nipple that peeked out from the open vee of Jared’s tunic. Chris felt Jared’s gasp, the rush of warm air seeping through his pants to make his cock twitch, and he threaded his hand in Steve’s hair, gently directing his husband’s mouth to Jared’s other nipple. Jared cried out at the hard suck, hands reaching out to grasp Chris hip and pull him closer. 

“Yes, yes,” Jared panted. Chris could only see the convulsions of his throat and bobbing of his chin as Jared formed the words. 

“Jared!” 

Milo’s sharp shout was the equivalent of ice water on overheated skin. The married men jerked back from the still thrashing boy and Jared let out a pitiful moan of despair. Steve pulled Jared up in a seated position as Milo stormed his way to them. 

“Milo?” Jared seemed confused and dazed and Steve knew the feeling. Now that the heat of the moment was gone he felt slightly drunk and off-kilter.

“What are you doing, Fen?” Milo hooked his arms under Jared’s armpits and dragged his brother off of the pilot’s lap.

“I-I don’t,” Jared’s brow furrowed and he looked between Chris and Steve.

“You,” Milo pointed at the older men. “Yī gè fŭhuàzhe pofù hé yī gè húnwú yāo guài láizì shēnchù de dìyù de bèn tāmā de húndàn érz,” he snarled.  << stupid fucking bastard son of a rotting bitch and a soulless devil from the depths of hell>>

“He came on to us,” Chris defended angrily.

“You stay away from my brother.” Milo’s voice was a steely calm that in no way underscored the veracity of his words. If anything it drove their meaning home more. “Or you’ll pray for death before I am through with you.” 

Milo ushered a bewildered Jared from the Bridge glaring periodically at Chris and Steve from over his shoulder. In the hallway outside, they passed Jensen heading up to relieve Steve for a while. Noticing Jared’s confused expression, he stopped them with a hand on Milo’s arm. 

“What’s happened? Is he okay?” 

“Ask your crew,” Milo snarled and Jensen reflexively pulled his hand away. Milo pushed passed him, Jared looking over his shoulder at the captain in apology.

Jensen continued on to the Bridge to find Chris and Steve looking distinctly disheveled. Once again he started at the flash fire of anger as it zinged through his veins. He considered them for a minute, allowing his blood to cool, before sighing. “Do I even want to know what just happened?”

Steve turned bewildered eyes to Chris. “As soon as we figure it out, we’ll let you know.” 

 

*****

 

Jensen waited in the hall outside Jared’s room, the sounds of Milo settling his brother in muffled by the thin partition. He paced, not the nervous, fidgety back and forth of late, something edgier, cagier. He’d pieced together enough from the scene on the bridge, Jared’s glazed eyes, Chris and Steve’s flushed and confused faces, Milo’s murderous expression, to have a fair guess at what had happened. His chest felt tight at the thought of Chris and Steve’s hands on Jared, their mouths.

He shook the tension from his shoulders and as he made another pass in front of the door, it slid open to reveal a wholly unsurprised Milo. Over the young man’s shoulder, Jensen could see Jared innocently and peacefully sleeping.

Milo held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, Captain. I’ve got it under control.”

“I reckon you might be overstating your abilities a tad. If this is you in control then I’d hate to see what it’s like when things are out of hand.”

Milo’s face fell for a brief moment and Jensen caught a glimpse of the weariness the man was trying to hide. Milo scrubbed a hand down his face and, like a cloth over a spill, it wiped away the tiredness leaving behind his neutral façade. “He’s just having a hard time adjusting.”

“He’s not the only one having a hard time,” Jensen snapped. “He’s driving most of my crew to distraction and in our line that can lead to all sorts of badness.”

“I know,” Milo admitted softly. “We’re working on it. It’s just…” he cut himself off short.

“It’s just what?” Jensen crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.” Milo’s defiance and stubbornness slid back into place. He tried to push past Jensen.

“See there is where we have a difference of opinion. If it affects my ship or my crew then it is my concern.” Jensen squared his stance.

Milo eyed him suspiciously, his mistrust and disdain clear. After a tense stale-mated moment, Milo deflated. “I think there is more going on than Jared needing time to acclimate.”

Jensen relaxed some. “I’m listening.”

Milo sighed, “That’s it. Just a feeling. Physically, he’s fine. All the scans have been within norms. Other than his hormone levels being slightly elevated, he’s perfectly healthy.”

“And mentally?” Jensen prodded.

“I don’t know,” Milo shook his head. “He’s been partially blocking me since he awoke and completely these last few days. I do know that after these… _episodes_ , he doesn’t remember making the advances.”

“Great,” Jensen sighed. “Look, we land on Ariel tomorrow and I’ve got to meet up with some less than friendly folk. I don’t need a loose cannon,” Jensen considered Chris for a minute then amended, “any more loose cannons running around making everyone squirelly. You need to keep that shy molesting brother of yours under wraps. All we need is for him complicating an already sensitive situation.”

“You have my word, Captain. Jared and I will remain scarce tomorrow.” He thought for a moment then continued carefully, “I know you’re having troubles. Want to fill me in?”

“Not particularly.” Jensen wondered how much the psychic had learned from the crew’s thoughts. The current situation was a heavy burden weighing on them all and was at the forefront of their minds.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Milo defended, seeing where Jensen’s thoughts had taken him even if the man’s mind was still closed to him. “I don’t read people without their permission.”

“Well, see, that right there don’t lend much credence to your statement.” Jensen’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t have to be psychic to know what you’re thinking,” Milo snarled.

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s what I would have thought if our positions were reversed. Look,” Milo snorted a hard breath out his nose. “I’m not trying to interfere with your business. I just thought I could maybe help. I have some contacts you might be interested in.”

“We don’t need mafia help,” Jensen said evenly. “The payback for that is more than its worth.”

Milo’s face contorted, rage pulling his attractive features. “You honestly think I would go to my family or any of their _friends_ for _anything_ after what they did to Jared. They can burn in hell for all I care and so can you Captain Ackles.”

“Milo?” The voice was sleep soft, barely audible through the door.

Milo’s face changed in an instant, the rage melting into regret. “Jared” he breathed, eyes closing in what Jensen could see was a bid for calm. Opening his eyes, Milo licked his lips and swallowed. “Captain, these high emotions aren’t good for Jared. I promise to keep him away tomorrow. Good night.” With a nod of his head, he disappeared back into Jared’s room. Jensen stood outside in shock over the abrupt end, the second in as many days, listening to the men inside the closed room.

“Go back to sleep, Jared. I’m right here.”

“You okay? You were angry.”

“It’s fine. Just talking with Ackles.”

“You should be nicer to him, Milo.” A yawn, then softer. “Captain Ackles is a good man.”

Jenin couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. He turned to head to the Bridge, hoping tomorrow on Ariel didn’t turn out to be a horrific disaster.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Jensen shifted some cargo around, sweat trickling down his back and soaking into his shirt. They’d landed on Ariel without any drama and the planet’s summer weather was nearly scorching after so many weeks in the cold depths of space. Jensen grumbled as he piled another crate of the silk they’d gotten on Esmer, generously alleviating the planet’s serious overstock problem - in the dead of night and under five minutes. Wouldn’t want the good people of Esmer to mistake them for thieves when they were just selflessly lending a hand, would they?

He counted the crates, five total, and sighed. They’d held onto them with Ariel specifically in mind. The merchants here catered to a higher class of society and would appreciate the value of this type of find. Plus, there was the added bonus of being a couple hundred light-years and a few dozen systems away from Esmer. The Esmerians were tenacious in tracking down philanthropists such as themselves, but their spacecrafts were rudimentary at best and couldn’t travel much past the borders of their own system. The silk would fetch a decent amount of coin at market, enough to buy fuel to keep Persephone going for a little longer, but they still needed a job with a serious payout if they hoped to stay on Quinto’s less evil side.

“Steve says that Sophia should be back the day after tomorrow,” Annie walked up to him, grabbing a container of Belsk wine and dragging it closer to the stack that Jensen had started. It wasn’t worth as much as the silk, but would still bring in a fair price at one of the local watering holes based on its uniqueness alone.

“Good,” Jensen grunted, rearranging the boxes being left onboard into some semblance of order. “Have Chris pull the horse around here so we can get this stuff loaded. I’d like to be a spot on the horizon when she gets back. Less time we spend here, the less chance we have of running into Sheppard.”

“Jenny, I’m hurt. You were just gonna to leave without even poppin’ over for a quick hello.” The cockney accent floated across the open cargo bay, echoing off the metal walls.

Jensen, bent over, fingers curled around the handles of a crate, closed his eyes in frustration and clenched his jaw. Licking his lips and slowly opening his eyes, he took a calming breath and stood to face the newcomer with a tight smile. Sheppard stood in the middle of the bay floor, flanked by a henchman on each side, smiling smugly in Jensen’s direction and appearing as if he owned the place. Looking just over Sheppard’s shoulder at Chris, he raised his eyebrows. “How’s about we announce visitors next time?”

Chris shrugged innocently and Jensen wanted to smack himself in the face. Sometimes he wondered why that man was still a part of his crew. A little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Annie reminded him that he was the best hired gun around and if he made him leave, Steve would no doubt follow.

Bringing his attention back to Sheppard, he forced his smile wider. “We’re pressed for time and don’t have much to spare for social visits this trip. Wish we could chat more, but we gotta lot of cargo to off-load down at the market.” Jensen moved to take a step, but stopped when Henchman #1 and Henchman #2 pulled pistols from the holsters beneath their jackets.

“And what do you have that you’d be willing to miss my company for?” Sheppard eyed the stacked boxes curiously. Walking over, he lifted the lids of the topmost boxes and peered inside. “Belsk wine and,” a slow smirk pulled at one side of his mouth as he raised impressed eyebrows, “Esmerian silk. Done well for ourselves, haven’t we Jen my boy?”

Hands raised at the guns pointed in his direction, Jensen shrugged one shoulder and flashed Sheppard his cockiest smile. “We do all right. So as you can see, we have some business to conduct in town right now, but we’ll be sure to stop for tea the next time we’re around.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sheppard countered, dropping the lid on the wine and brushing the dust from his hands. “I’ll just take this off your hands and save you the trip altogether.”

“And if I’m of a mind to decline your offer?” Movement caught the corner of Jensen’s eye and he risked a quick glance in that direction. Milo and Jared were crouched near the entrance to the Common Room, nearly hidden by a stack of empty crates, heads bent together and hands flying in obvious disagreement.

“Then I might be of a mind to tell Quinto where he can find you,” Sheppard smiled, the mention of Quinto bringing Jensen’s full attention back to the man before him. “Better to deal with the devil you know than the one you don’t.”

Jensen swallowed. They needed the wine and the silk if they had any chance of avoiding Quinto until they could scrounge up the money to repay him, but if Sheppard made good on his threat they’d never get off Ariel before Quinto’s men found them. Past Sheppard’s shoulder, he could see Jared struggling against Milo’s grip on his arm, floppy hair flinging back and forth as the young man shook his head vehemently.

“What’s it gonna be, Jenny?” Sheppard mocked.

If Quinto got hold of the ship…Jensen’s jaw ticked under the pressure of his gritted teeth. The crew had been part of the con, knew what they’d signed up for when they took the job with the ruthless man, but Jared…

Jensen got the distinct impression that Milo had done a few things that might make him deserving of Quinto’s cruelty, but not Jared. Bad wrong had been done to Jared, Jensen was sure. Just as sure as he was that Jared had never committed offense to anyone. Jensen couldn’t take the chance that Jared would be hurt.

“Sir?” Annie’s voice was soft, not questioning him just needing guidance of where the situation was headed.

Jensen exchanged a long look with her and saw her nod in understanding.

“You ain’t just gonna give it to him,” Chris protested.

“Not seeings as I have a choice. Between profit and death, I’m a little heavy handed toward the side of living.”

“Who’s that there?”

Jensen whipped around, barely containing his groan. Jared was coming toward them, his movements sinuous – gliding, slithering – the embodiment of seduction and temptation. The buttons of his tunic undone so that the fabric slipped from one shoulder to expose his smooth, creamy chest and his lips were bitten to a swollen, rosy red. He considered Sheppard coyly from beneath hooded eyes and curtained lashes. Jensen searched frantically for Milo, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s nobody,” Jensen quickly explained. “Just…just a passenger.”

“A person who looks like that isn’t a nobody,” Sheppard muttered, face clearly flushing as he watched Jared sashay closer. “Seems Jenny has been keeping secrets.” He seemed mesmerized, caught in Jared’s entrancing presence and unable to take his eyes away. He shifted foot-to-foot, unconsciously readjusting the burgeoning hardness between his legs.

“We’ve all got our secrets, don’t we?” Jared asked, his accent and inflection perfectly mimicking Sheppard’s natural speech. Annie and Chris gave Jensen sidelong glances and he could only shrug. Whatever Jared was playing at, Jensen sure hoped he knew what he was doing.

“Not likely I’m gonna tell any of ‘em to you, though” Jared continued, close enough to run his fingers over Sheppard’s jacket, twirl them around the ascot knotted at his neck. Sheppard’s chest heaved as his breathing sped up, pupils dilating to eclipse the iris. “You’ve forgotten your lessons, talked out of turn. Anyone off Dyton Colony knows not to talk to strangers.” Jared circled around behind him, fingers grazing lazily over the other man’s chest. “But you’re running full steam enough for the both of us, ain’tcha? I’ve seen the likes of you before. Flitted off early, grifting your way through the Verse, spinning lies to elevate your standing. If your men knew the truth about your time in lock down, they wouldn’t give you the respect you deserve.” He smiled mischievously at the two henchman still holding a confused Jensen, Chris and Annie at gunpoint. “Your time in the cells did show you what you really like, didn’t it?” Jared nuzzled at Sheppard’s jaw, nibbling at the sensitive skin of his neck and making the thief whine. “Dominating muscle is so much sweeter than taming soft flesh.” Sheppard shuddered as Jared’s tongue followed the whirl of his ear. “Tell me, my sad, lil king,” Jared breathed over the spit-slick skin forcing another shiver to pass through the other man, “did you talk about Consorts while behind those barred walls? Swap rumors about them like campfire stories?” He rounded to the front of Sheppard again, body rubbing against the other man.

“You’re,” Sheppard inhaled sharply, eyes wide, “you’re a Consort?”

“Trained by the best,” Jared assured, voice still mimicking Sheppard exactly. “Cap’n has good reason to keep the likes of me a secret, don’tcha think?” Jared’s hands roved over Sheppard’s body, gentle caresses that whispered of pleasure and biting grasps that promised sin. “Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like? If the rumors are true? I can promise that whatever you heard, pales to what I can really do.” Jared’s body writhed against the Sheppard, hips grinding against the shorter man. Jensen’s face twisted in disgust.

Sheppard grabbed Jared and tried to force their lips closer together, but Jared deftly ducked out of the hold shaking his head teasingly. “Ah, ah, ah,” he waggled a finger. “You have to give a little if you expect me to give a lot.”

“I’ll give you more than a little,” Sheppard leered, pelvis thrusting in Jared’s direction.

“You’re manhood is not in question,” Jared slinked closer. “I was thinking more in the way of a trade.”

“Trade?” Suspicion passed over Sheppard’s face.

“Mmmhmmm,” Jared hummed, pressing deep, open-mouthed kisses to Sheppard’s neck, and Jensen felt his gorge rise. “You help us with our little problem and I’ll make sure you are _well_ rewarded. “ Jared ghosted his hand over Sheppard’s crotch, pulling a moan from the man.

“What…” Sheppard trailed off, his eyes glazed over as Jared continued his light touches.

“We need a job. Something with a good payout so we can _satisfy_ ,” he breathed the word, infusing as much innuendo as possible into it and squeezing Sheppard’s hard length, “Quinto.”

Sheppard whimpered, “I…”

Jared moved his mouth back and forth in front of Sheppard’s, the other man’s trailing along in its wake trying to catch his lips. “You what? Tell me and I’ll give you what you deserve.” He moved his hand up and down the bulge in Sheppard’s tight trousers.

“Tudyk,” Sheppard panted. “Alan Tudyk on Market Street.”

“What about Mr. Tudyk?” Jared sucked Sheppard’s ear into his mouth, biting the flesh tenderly.

“Cattle,” Sheppard barked out, knees dipping before he could lock them. “He’s got cattle he needs moved off world. With-without the A-alliance knowing.”

“He got money?” Jared husked in his ear.

“Out the arse.” Sheppard turned his head trying to find Jared’s mouth.

“Good boy,” Jared growled, letting Sheppard catch his lips in a deep kiss.

Jensen stood stunned, morbidly fascinated while simultaneously nauseated at Jared and Sheppard kissing. He was so focused on them that he missed Milo slinking out of the shadows and in rapid succession taking out the armed henchman, the soft sounds of their bodies thudding to the grated floor rousing him from his revolted stupor. Jensen looked at Milo, standing tall over the unconscious men, with a raised eyebrow.

“You needed a job. Thought we could help out.” Milo shrugged.

A soft moan brought Jensen back to the two men making out in his cargo bay. “I think Jared can stop being so helpful now.”

“Jared?” Milo’s brow furrowed and his lip curled in disgust as he watched Jared’s leg wrap around Sheppard’s waist, a tall willowy vine trying to wrap itself around a stunted tree. When his brother ignored him in lieu of grinding harder against the slimy thief, he called again with more authority. “Jared!”

Jared snapped back from Sheppard, face flushed and expression dazed. His body was still tangled around the other man, his hips continuing to rut seemingly without conscious thought. Sheppard grabbed two handfuls of Jared’s ass and squeezed. Jared gasped and turned back to once again devour Sheppard’s mouth.

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Chris mumbled, hand moving to his zipper. “If you squint your eyes, you can pretend Sheppard is someone hot. Free porn is free porn.”

“Chris!” Jensen and Annie yelled at the same time.

Milo stormed over to his brother and yanked him free of Sheppard by the shirt collar. “Enough, Fen!” Jared resisted, fighting Milo’s hold to try and get back to Sheppard, and Milo shook him hard. “Dammit, Jared. Stop!”

Jared jerked, blinking furiously. He looked around the cargo bay, taking in the lust-hazed expression on Sheppard’s face and the matching ones of repulsion on everyone else’s. A furious blush stained his skin red and he shook his head at Milo with wide, innocent eyes, his shoulder rolling. “I – I,” he stammered, voice leaving him to gape with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Tears pooled along his lids as he glanced at Jensen one more time before running toward the passenger quarters.

Milo stared after Jared for a moment, weight transferring from one foot to the other nervously. He looked from Sheppard to Jensen. “You got this?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded numbly. “Go see to your brother. But Milo,” he stopped the man with a hand on his arm, “we need to talk about this.”

He didn’t need to explain that he was talking about Jared and Milo nodded without hesitation before taking off after his brother. Once Milo disappeared, Jensen shook his head, trying to clear the image of Jared wrapped around Sheppard from his mind. “Chris, see our guest finds his way off my ship then you and Steve load up this cargo to take to market. Apparently, Annie and I need to pay a visit to Market Street.”

Chris nodded and ushered Sheppard and his rousing colleagues from the ship. Annie turned to Jensen, worry evident in her green eyes.

“Something is not right with Jared. It’s one thing to hit on the crew but to get lost like that with _Sheppard_ ,” she shuddered. “I’d rather be shot than touch him and I’ve crawled across a lot worse in my time.”

“I know,” Jensen understood her concern. “Let’s get our business conducted then we’ll deal with it. I think it’s time we have a sit down with Jared and figure out exactly what’s going on in that fool head of his.”

 

*****

 

Jensen scrubbed a hand down his face as he pushed the door to his room back, exposing the ladder that would lead him down to his quarters. The meeting with Tudyk had gone well, both sides coming to an agreement that should prove profitable all around. He was still disturbed about how they’d gotten the lead, grimacing at the image of Jared and Sheppard that flashed in his mind’s eye. He was determined to have a sit down with Milo about Jared’s helpfulness. Jensen yawned as he climbed down rung by rung, surefooted from years of practice, eyes squinting closed and squeezing tears from the force. His boots thudded on the floor at the bottom and he blinked away the unintentional wetness. His brow furrowed and he blinked some more before knuckling the tired orbs, sure that he still wasn’t seeing clearly.

The overhead lights were darkened, the only illumination coming from dozens of dancing flames littered along the flat surfaces of his room. Jensen didn’t even know there were that many candles on Persephone. The heady and alluring scent of warm sandalwood and vanilla filled the room and he inhaled deeply, eyes closing to savor the aroma. His eyelids opened lazily as he exhaled and his gaze lighted on the bed, his next breath stuttering in his chest.

Jared was sprawled out on his bunk, long, lean body draped in a short red satin robe. One smooth shoulder was exposed by the drooping fabric and the hem grazed the top of slender thighs, barely concealing Jared’s modesty. His cat-like eyes were rimmed in kohl, his lids painted a pale teal that brought out the blue in his eyes and cheeks dusted in rose making the delicate bones appear more defined. Chestnut locks were tousled and Jensen swallowed as a pink tongue peeked out to swipe along luscious strawberry-tinted lips. Special Hell was looking more and more inviting.

“Jare,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “Jared? What are you doing in here?” He stepped over to his desk, keeping as much space between him and his downfall as possible.

Languidly, Jared rose up until he was kneeling on the bed, hands resting on his thighs. “You seemed tense earlier and I thought I could help you relax.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I think…”

Jared got to his feet, body more graceful than it had any right to be, and glided over to Jensen. A slender finger pressed gently over Jensen’s lips, urging him to silence. “Don’t think,” Jared murmured, hands sliding over Jensen’s strong shoulders. “Just breathe and let me take care of you.” Nimble fingers sought out knots of tension, massaging them away before searching for the next.

Jensen’s eyes fluttered shut and a groan rumbled up his throat. Now that Jared was close, he could smell the man beneath the scents hanging in the air and he swayed closer wanting to revel in it. Jared smelled of cinnamon and sugar, baked treats and candied sweets, and Jensen longed to smother himself in it. He didn’t realize that his hands had drifted up from his sides until Jared breathy whisper ghosted over his ear.

“You can touch me if you want.”

Jensen forced his heavy eyes open, startled at how close Jared was, their noses practically touching. His hands hovered uncertainly over Jared’s hips, what his body wanted warring with what his mind knew. Jared smiled encouragingly and the fight was lost. Hands fitted over the jut of bone while thumbs worked their way under the tie that held the robe closed. Between one breath and the next, Jared was closer, a hair’s breadth of space separating their bodies.

“You can do anything you want with me, Captain.” Jared’s hands kept up their ministrations, moving to his upper back when the muscles of Jensen’s shoulders were loose and pliant. “I really don’t mind. I want to be of service to you.” He rocked forward, lips tentatively brushing Jensen’s. ”Make you happy.” His tongue lapped at Jensen’s lower lip. “Be what you need.”

The last of Jensen’s defenses crumbled and he crushed their mouths together, tongue demanding entrance that was immediately given. His hands slid around Jared’s waist, cupping Jared’s ass and tugging him that last bit closer. Jared tasted as good as he smelled, sweeter than the ripest fruit, and Jensen groaned, deepening the kiss to get more of the flavor. Jensen’s fingers dug into the meat of Jared’s ass and Jared keened, high-pitched and needy. The sound grounded Jensen’s hazed mind and he pulled back. Jared tried to follow, seeking out Jensen’s mouth again, but Jensen’s disentangled himself from Jared’s body and stepped back.

“Captain?” Jared’s eyes were unnaturally bright and dazed, confusion etched on his face. He moved forward, hands reaching out for Jensen.

“Jared, no,” Jensen held out a staying hand. “We can’t do this. It’s wrong.” He clenched his teeth, ignoring the way his body insisted that his mind was the one that was wrong.

“You want me and I want you.” Jared gave him a coy look through his bangs, fingers trailing down Jensen’s arm. “I don’t see where that’s wrong.”

“Trust me it is,” Jensen sighed. “Look, I’m flattered but this is really not a good idea.” He took another step back and made a motion toward the ladder. “I think it best you head on back to your own room now.”

Jared narrowed his eyes at Jensen, his face hard and unreadable. Jensen frowned at the abrupt change. “Fine,” Jared hissed, left hand reaching over to massage his right shoulder, face pinched in pain. “As you command, Captain.”

“Jared, are you hurt?” Jensen reached out to examine Jared’s shoulder, worried he’d hurt the younger man while he’d groped him.

“I’m fine,” Jared lurched back, jerking his body away from Jensen. “You can try to deny this all you want, but we both know how you really feel.”?” He tapped his chest. “Empath, remember? You won’t be able to resist me forever. I just hope I’m still around when you wise up.” He quickly dodged around Jensen ascending the ladder, the hatch slamming shut behind him.

Jensen sat heavily on his bed and dropped his upper body back, Jared’s smell coming up from sheets. “Well, that went well.”

 

*****

 

“King me!” Alona crowed, dancing in her seat as Annie grumbled and stacked another checker on top of the one Alona had just moved. Misha looked up from his dog-eared Bible and smiled fondly.

Annie jumped two of Alona’s checkers and set them to the side of the board. “How’re things going with Milo?”

Alona’s bright smile fell. “They’re not. What’s a girl gotta do to get noticed? Every time we start getting to the good part, he jumps up and says he has to go clean his gun.”

Annie snickered and Misha ducked his head to hide his own quiet laugh.

Oblivious, Alona scrunched up her face in thought. “Maybe I should try putting a little gun oil behind my ears.”

Annie couldn’t help herself and laughed out loud, her newly bobbed and dyed black hair swinging with the movement. She cut off abruptly, choking back her lingering chuckles, when Milo appeared in the doorway, eyes flicking about the room as if looking for something. Her eyes traveled down to the thigh holster ever-present on Milo’s right leg and worked hard to fix her mouth in a polite smile. “Your sidearm always looks so well-tended, Milo. Tell me,” her lips twitched, “is there a particular motion you use when cleaning it that keeps it in such good order?”

Milo raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his gun. “Just give it a thorough rub down, but I guess if there is one secret it’s plenty of oil. A good coating will keep just about anything firing straight.”

Annie coughed over a laugh, Alona reaching over to run a hand soothingly over her friend’s back.

Milo shot Misha a confused glance and the shepherd smiled. “Was there something you were looking for, Milo?”

“Uh, yeah,” Milo shook his head as if trying to clear this odd conversation from his mind. “Have you seen Jared?”

“Not for a while, no,” Misha replied, the girls nodding their agreement. “Is everything all right?” He’d noticed the boy’s behavior had been off, his advances becoming more persistent and making the preacher uncomfortable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss but wasn’t able to put a finger on it.

“What? Of course!” Milo answered a little too quickly. “I…I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Last I saw he was headed…”

Alona was cut off when Jared stormed through the Common Room, not sparing a glance at the group gathered there. He shouldered past his brother and continued on toward the passenger rooms. Milo automatically turned on his heel and followed his twin down the hallway.

“Fen? Fen!” He caught up with Jared and spun him around with a hand on his shoulder. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” He tried to glean from Jared’s mind what had upset the man so much but Jared was blocking his attempts. He looked down, noticing for the first time Jared’s attire. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s none of your business where I’ve been or,” he tightened the tie of his robe, “what I wear. You’re not Father, Milo.”

“You’re damned right I’m not. I’m better than him. I was the one that always protected you, made sure you were safe, not him. So forgive me if I think that makes what you do _and_ wear my business.”

Jared’s face was stony. “I haven’t been safe since the day Mother and Father packed my bags for Oiran.”

Milo came up short. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I can take care of myself. If I want to have a little fun then I don’t need you clucking your tongue at me like an overprotective nursemaid.”

“Does this fun include the rugged Captain Ackles?”

“So what if it does?” Jared squared his shoulders and made a move to push past Milo, face contorted in a sneer.

Once again, Milo turned Jared around to face him. “What is going on, Jared? You…you aren’t acting like yourself.”

Jared snatched his shoulder away, jaw ticking. “Has it occurred to you, dear brother, that we’ve been separated for close to six years. A person can change a lot in that time. Maybe this is how I am now.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t or don’t want to?” Jared accused. “You know what I believe? I believe that you like controlling me, keeping me in your sight. It makes you feel important and the thought that I might not need you terrifies you.”

Ignoring Jared’s insinuations, Milo crossed his arms over his chest. “Think what you want Jared, but it doesn’t change the facts. I forbid you to get involved with anyone on his crew, especially Captain Ackles.”

“You forbid me from getting involved?” Jared repeated calmly. “Like you’re getting involved with Alona?” He looked at his brother evenly. “Don’t lie to me, Milo. It only insults both of our intelligences. I assure you, I know what lust feels like and it’s pouring off the two of you in waves. So you can take your hypocrisy and shove it up your ass.” With that, Jared shoved Milo away and went into his room, slamming his door shut.

Milo leaned back against the wall and fisted his hands in his hair. Boots scuffing down the hallway had him looking up to see Jensen coming his way. Great!

Pushing off the wall, Milo tried to roll some of the tension from his shoulders. “Something I can help you with, Captain?”

“I was hoping to talk to Jared.”

“My brother isn’t feeling himself.” Milo cast a glance at the vellum door to Jared’s room. “I think it would be best for you to talk tomorrow.”

Jensen licked his lips and leveled a gaze at the other man. “I don’t think your brother is himself most of the time.”

“Jared’s fine,” Milo defended automatically.

“Now, I think we both know that you’re not being entirely truthful. That boy has more personalities swirling around in his head than a theater troupe. He needs help.”

“I’m helping him,” Milo argued. “I’ve got it handled. It’s under control.”

Jensen sighed, softening his voice to try a different tack. “I know you’re trying to help him, Milo, but it’s anything but under control.”

Milo dipped his head, nodding. When he looked up again, Jensen was taken aback by the devastated expression on the normally cocky man’s face. Milo was scared. No, scratch that, Milo was petrified. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s like something is happening to him, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what or how to stop it. I just got him back. I can’t lose him again.”

For the first time since meeting the young man, Jensen felt his heart go out to him. He and Milo were really a lot alike and Jensen knew that the vulnerability that the dark-haired man was showing him was rarely seen.

“What if the cryo-container damaged his brain? What if by trying to protect him, I was the one that put him in danger?” Milo’s voice was soft, like the questions cost him dearly to ask.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jensen said instead of answering. “You keep your brother from dry-humping my crew until we get that herd delivered and then we’ll find someone fugitive-friendly to examine Jared.”

Milo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why would you do that? You’d be better off to leave us here to fend for ourselves.”

“You’re part of my crew.” Jensen stated simply, turning to walk back down the hallway.

“You don’t even like me,” Milo called after him.

Jensen paused and smirked over his shoulder. “That may be true, but, in all honesty, I don’t like Chris much either. Doesn’t change anything, though. You’re still part of my crew.”

 

*****

 

Jensen didn’t exactly avoid Jared the next day but didn’t particularly seek out his company either. He spent the majority of his time sequestered on the Bridge working out the logistics of their new job with Annie and Steve. Annie had been against the entire venture from the start, the idea of that many easily spooked and high maintenance cargo put her off from the jump. Jensen grew up on a farm, raised horses with his mother before the war; he knew what taking care of livestock entailed. He wanted to allay her fears, but since most were well-founded and highly probable, he settled for promising to find the most direct route to their destination.

Looking over the navigation charts that Steve had displayed on the screen, Jensen went to set his hand on the console and misjudged the distance he was from it, stumbling forward. He hissed when his arm connected with the sharp edge, tearing a gash into the skin of his elbow. A rivulet of blood tickled his forearm as it ran down to curl around his wrist.

“You should have that seen to,” Steve swiveled in his chair.

“I’ve been shot before, I think I can handle a little cut,” Jensen snorted.

“We’ve got everything covered here and I refuse to let you bleed all over my Bridge.” Picking up a Tyrannosaurus Rex model, Steve held it in front of his face and growled playfully at the captain. “The smell might incite a riot and nobody wants rioting man eaters on board. It would be insanity.”

Jensen rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Can’t have that. Pretty sure we’ve already got all the insanity we can handle.”

Whistling jauntily, he went down the stairs to the Med Bay, hand clamping a bandana to the cut on his elbow. Stepping off the bottom step, he pulled the cloth away to see if the bleeding had stopped and nearly ran into Jared. “Oh, Jared,” he smiled, stepping back. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Captain?” Jared noticed the wound on his arm and gently cupped his elbow between his hands. “What happened?”

“Computer panel and I had a disagreement. I fought valiantly, but it was a formidable foe.”

Jared fought to keep a straight face. “As long as it wasn’t something embarrassing like you being clumsy. Come on,” he tugged Jensen toward the door to the Med Bay. “Let’s get you sorted out.”

Jensen sat on the examination table and watched Jared move around the room, gathering the supplies he needed to tend Jensen’s arm. Jared seemed to have forgiven him for what happened in Jensen’s quarters last night and Jensen would deny that he was relieved.

“All right, let’s have a look.” Jared carefully cleaned the cut and applied a stinging ointment before covering it with a bandage. He leaned over and tenderly placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Jensen’s elbow, tip of his tongue coming out to kitten lick the skin as he pulled away. “There all better,” he breathed against the damp flesh.

Jensen shivered at the jolt of arousal that surged through him, the spot unexpectedly erotic. Tugging his arm away, he smiled and hoped his voice didn’t tremble. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, captain. I enjoy taking care of your needs.” Jared’s features went from innocent to sly, a sultry smile slowly curling his lips. He traced a finger up Jensen’s chest. “All your needs.”

“Jared,” Jensen sighed, hand closing around Jared’s to keep it from wandering further. Lips were suddenly pressed to his and, faster than Jensen thought possible, Jared climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs. Jensen tried to protest, push Jared away, but the younger man had the leverage and easily pushed the bigger man to his back. Fingers encircled Jensen’s wrists, pinning them to the bed next to his head.

“Jared?” Jensen gasped when Jared pulled back for them to get some much needed air.

“Mmmmmm, Jensen,” Jared moaned, his hips rotating down and rubbing their hardening lengths together. “God, you feel so good. So long and hot and thick. I can’t wait to feel you from the inside. You gonna give it to me Jensen?” He was panting, body in constant motion. “Hmmmm? You gonna give it to me or am I gonna have to take it?”

“Jared,” Jensen turned his face away, Jared’s kisses just moved sloppily to his neck. “Stop,” he croaked out.

Jared ignored him, continuing to assault Jensen’s neck. “I’m gonna treat you so right. Blow your mind.” Jared muttered between nibbles and sucking bites. “Give us both what we need, what we want.”

“Jared, stop!” Jensen’s eyes rolled back in his head when Jared ground down, hips moving in a fluid figure eight that should be outlawed by the Alliance. His stern tone caused the other man to pause, pulling back enough to look Jensen in the face. “I don’t want you,” he said plainly, lying in the hopes he would finally get through to Jared.

Jared smiled, the edge sharp and biting. “Liar, liar,” he sing-songed, pressing his erection harder against Jensen’s.

“I’m not lying,” Jensen fought to keep his tone firm. “I don’t want you. Not like this.”

“Liar,” Jared snarled, lifting and slamming down the hands in his grasp. “You want me,” he insisted. His cheeks, once flushed with arousal, now flushed with anger.

Jensen looked up at him and noticed for the first time the deep, dark circles under Jared’s eyes, the underlying grayness of his complexion. “No, Jared,” he said softly.

Jared’s face twitched, his shoulder rolled. He crashed their lips together again, fingers tightening around Jensen’s wrist. Jensen remained still, answering Jared’s aggression with passiveness. Jared growled in frustration and came back twice as fierce. Still, Jensen didn’t move.

“Please, Jensen, please. I need you. I need it.” Jared’s desperate pleads were pressed against his mouth, breathed into his spit-slick lips. Begs turned to demands. “Stop this Jensen! You want me. I know you do.” He slammed Jensen’s hands down again. “I know you do,” he repeated in a defeated whisper, eyes closing.

“Jared.” It was all Jensen could think to say, the only word he could remember in the face of Jared’s distress. He wanted to comfort him, hold him, but Jared still held fast to his hands.

At the sound of his name, Jared’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He looked down at where his body straddled Jensen then slowly tracked his gaze up to where his hands held Jensen pinned. He jerked his hands back, face slack in disbelief. “I – I’m sorry,” he scrambled down from Jensen, stumbling slightly when his feet hit the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen could see the tears pooling along Jared’s lower lids. He sat up quickly and reached out to the boy, but Jared flung himself back, away from Jensen’s touch. He bumped into a rolling tray, knocking it over and following it down. Jensen was on his feet immediately, but Jared scurried out of the room leaving Jensen standing there reeling from what had just happened. If it weren’t for the bandage on his arm, he would have thought he’d imagined the whole thing.

He bent over and righted the tray. He needed to talk to Milo. This wasn’t what Jensen considered keeping Jared on a leash and Jensen couldn’t have Jared jumping out at him, or on him, every time he turned around. Sooner or later, Jensen would forget why he was saying no.

“Sir?”

Jensen turned to see Annie in the doorway.

“We’re ready to head over to Tudyk’s.”

Jensen nodded his head, taking a deep breath. Apparently, his talk with Milo would have to wait.

“Everything okay, Sir?” Annie’s face was creased in concern.

“I honestly don’t know.”

 

*****

“Any word on our lost little sheep, Welling?”

Tom sat back in his chair and stared at the two men on the screen. He’d worked for the Flynn family in one capacity or another since he was sixteen, but being under the penetrating glances of Gideon and Fabian still made him uncomfortable. Especially when the news he had wasn’t what the brothers wanted to hear.

“Nothing so far, sirs. Labati and Groener are on their way to Demeter. We received information from someone loyal to the family that Milo and Jared were there over a week ago.”

Gideon shifted in his seat, resting his arm on his desk. “That planet has one of largest shipping ports in that area of the verse.”

Tom nodded, “It’s possible that they bought passage on one of the transports. Our friends at the Alliance are getting me a list of all the ships that have been in and out of the docks since Jared disappeared.”

Fabian poured an amber liquid from an ornate decanter into two tumblers and passed one to his brother. Tom’s mouth watered at the sight, knowing the quality of the liquor favored by the Flynns and wishing he were there to enjoy their generosity. “Javier has offered his services in the search as well.”

“I’m sure he has,” Tom grinned, “Jared was always a favorite of his.”

Gideon cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I don’t think I need to remind you how imperative it is that Jared be found. Jeffrey Dean is questioning why he can’t visit his husband-to-be and is not shy about reminding me that he has already paid half up front. I have never failed to deliver and I refuse to let Jared be the first.” He drummed his fingers lazily. “Who is your contact at the Alliance?”

“Timothy Olyphant,” Tom answered. “He’s heading the Alliance’s search for Milo and has promised to turn Jared over as soon as they find them.”

“Can we trust him?” Gideon picked up his tumbler and took a long drink.

“As much as the next man,” Tom folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “He has an affinity for money and pussy. Something the Alliance can’t offer him, but we have in spades. As long as his pocket is full and his dick is getting wet, he’ll stay loyal.”

“I’m not sure this is entirely necessary. I think you are forgetting an important detail,” Fabian crossed his legs and rested his glass on his knee. “The security measures Oiran puts in place on all our trainees. My dear nephew should be feeling the full effects by now. It’s only a matter of time before Jared will either come back or no longer be a concern.”

“For your sakes, you better hope he comes back,” Gideon set down his tumbler. “I doubt Jeffrey Dean will want to marry a corpse and if I have to refund his money, it will come out of your hides.”

“He’ll be back,” Fabian was certain. “We all know that Milo is ramrodding this little scheme; Jared isn’t smart enough to plan something like this. As soon as Jared starts getting ill, Milo’ll do anything to get him well. Even if it means exposing them.”

“All we need is for him to turn up at a hospital and Olyphant’s men will have them,” Tom added.

Pacified, Gideon ran his index finger around the rim of his glass. “Once he’s back at the Academy, how long until he’ll be ready for Jeffrey Dean?”

Fabian pursed his lips in thought. “Couple of days to clear his system then we’ll have to schedule him for some tutoring sessions to… _refresh_ his training. Depending on the availability of the tutors, I’d say two, three weeks at the most.”

“I don’t think you’ll have an issue with tutor availability. Most have fond memories of Jared and will be more than willing to put in extra hours with him. I’m sure they’ll be happy to remind him of his training,” Tom leered. “I might even brush up my trainer skills to help get him ready again.”

“Good,” Gideon nodded. “And gentlemen? Let’s not spare the rod. I want Jared to understand how wrong it was to run away from his family.”

 

*****

Jensen stood on the catwalk over the cargo bay, staring at something he never thought he’d see. The hold was full, wall to wall, with cattle. A loose cipher had them at about two hundred head, but he wasn’t confident on his count since they tended to meander while being tallied. He watched as the herd shifted and contemplated whether he could adjust Chris’ job description to include tending to them.

“I see we’ve picked up something with a lower IQ than Chris,” Sophia’s soft melodious voice startled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Jensen leaned his forearms on the railing. “Transport. Honest work for once. You should be proud.”

“I am,” she agreed, pressing the backs of her delicate fingers beneath her nose when a less-than-pleasant smell rose from beneath them. “But I’m sure that the next job will be twice as illegal to balance the out the Verse.”

Jensen chuckled. “Good _visit_ on Ariel?”

Sophia stiffened. “It always amazes me the amount of derision to can put into a single word, but, yes, my visit was quite enjoyable.”

“And profitable, I’m sure,” Jensen added, picking at the cuticle of his thumb.

“Can we not do this right now?” Sophia huffed. “I didn’t come down here for us to snipe at each other.”

“So you want more than my witty banter?” Jensen stood, a smug smirk on his face. “Sorry, darling. I thought we established a while back that I’m immune to your particular charms.”

Her eyes narrowed into a hard glare. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Jared.”

“Ah,” Jensen wrapped his hands around the rail and leaned back, stretching his muscles, “he seems to be the topic of the day. I was going to have a little heart-to-heart with him after dinner. Something is not right.”

“What’s happened?”

“Captain?” Annie poked her head down the stairs leading from the dining room. “Oh, hey, Soph,” she greeted seeing the Companion. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Coming!” Jensen clapped his hands together. Looking at Sophia, he smiled widely, “Jared picked up some things on Ariel he swears will make his cooking taste even better. Ready to go see what he has in store for us?”

“Jen,” Sophia placed a staying hand on his arm, “is Jared all right?”

Jensen stopped and considered for a moment. “Not sure I’d go so far as to say ‘all right’, but…”

“But?”

“Just come up and see for yourself.”

*****

Jensen stood to the side and motioned for Sophia to precede him through the doorway. He stepped through after her and ran into her stalled form. She turned wide eyes to him and he gave her his best ‘I told you so’ look.

Jared stood at the stove in the sheerest fabric, his thin, waifish body on full display with only a tiny pair of briefs protecting his modesty. He was shaking his hips back and forth, swaying to a tune only he could hear, the rhythm apparently sensual and erotic. He moved about the kitchen and dining room, making certain to touch anyone he passed and going a step further to rub against those that seemed more receptive. His skin was flushed and even from where Jensen stood he could tell the young man’s pupils were dilated. He skimmed a hand over Steve’s ass as he moved to set the table.

“He’s been like this since I left?” Sophia stood in amazement, awed by how much things could change in such a short time.

“It’s been progressing,” Jensen hedged.

Jared skirted around behind Annie, fingers trailing down her exposed arm and warm breath ruffling her hair. Jensen quirked an eyebrow at her blush, usually Annie was as immune to male charms as Jensen was to female ones. Milo scowled at Jared and quickly was at his brother’s side, guiding him back to the kitchen and giving everyone murderous looks. Misha made his way over to them, taking the long way around the table to avoid Jared’s wandering hands…and hips. “Quite the change in our young Mr. Flynn,” Misha murmured, “For a short time, I feared for the virtue of that ficus in the corner.”

“This has got to stop!” Jensen hissed, taking a step toward the tempter, stopping when he felt Sophia’s gentle hand on his arm.

“Not yet,” she eyed Jared carefully as he tried to grind back against Milo, much to Milo’s horror.

“Why not? I can’t sit back and let Jared drive this crew to distraction,” he waved a hand in Jared’s general direction.

“I know,” Sophia assured, ducking her head to look Jensen directly in the eye. “I know, Jensen,” she repeated. “I just ask that you talk to me before you confront Jared. I learned some things during my time on Ariel that you might want to hear first.”

Jensen studied Jared uncertainly, thinking. Taking a breath, he nodded his head grudgingly. “Okay. We’ll do it your way for now.”

“Let’s eat, everyone,” Milo called from the kitchen, carrying a pot to the table and using his body as an effective barricade between Jared and everyone else. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop Jared from rubbing up against him the entire way to the table.

The crew gathered at the table and Jared moved behind them to dish out a steaming stew from the pot despite Jensen’s protest that Jared wasn’t expected to serve anyone.

“I enjoy serving,” Jared replied with a salacious wink.

Jared moved behind him, hand relinquishing the ladle at each person to run a caress over some part of their body. When firsts were finished, he quickly got up and began dishing out seconds to those who wanted them. At Chris’ spot, he set the pot down and pushed Chris’ chair back so he could face him.

“You missed some,” Jared husked, dipping down to lick a smear of the thick brown sauce from the corner of Chris’ mouth. Chris moaned lowly and reached up, fingers holding Jared’s hips tight enough to bruise as he plundered the younger man’s mouth.

Jensen wanted to hold Chris responsible, blame him for having the self-restraint of a cat in heat, but Jared had been working everyone into a frenzy, the sexual tension was thick enough to taste in the air. It was only a matter of time before someone snapped. If Jensen was being honest, he should admire Chris’ control.

Jensen’s cry of indignation was overpowered by Milo’s “Fen!” The surly twin ripped Jared away, flinging him back as he kept Chris in his seat with a restraining hand.

Jensen jumped up in time to catch Jared before he could fall to the floor. He wrapped his arms around Jared’s slight frame, steadying him until he could get his feet under him again. For a moment, Jared’s eyes flashed surprise and fear, reminding Jensen of the boy he’d met just last week, before it was gone, replaced by the coy, sultry look Jared had adopted lately.

“My hero,” Jared breathed, hands smoothing up Jensen’s biceps. “You know, I never got to give you a proper thank you for helping me and Milo.” He bumped his pelvis forward and Jensen could feel the hard, hot length of Jared underneath the gauzy material of his pants. “Show you how grateful I am.” He slid a hand between them, snaking his way down Jensen’s front, his destination clear.

Jensen shoved him away, forcing the boy to stumble backward. “That’s enough!”

“Jensen, please,” Sophia implored, reminding him that she wanted to talk to him before this conversation happened, but he ignored her. He’d allowed this to go on long enough.

“No, Soph.”

“Yeah, Jensen, _please_ ,” Jared purred, sidling back up to the Captain.

“No more games,” Jensen leveled Jared with a gaze.

“No games?” Jared repeated, questioningly, then moved closer again. “But I like to play.”

“Jared, stop!” Jensen held up a hand to keep the man at bay.

“What?” Jared’s face turned angry, a fierce flush coloring his neck and face. “I’m not good enough for the illustrious Captain of the Persephone? Fine!” He turned his back on Jensen. “No worries, others here want me.” He moved to Chris and Steve, draping his arms over their shoulders and ducking down close to their ears. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen? Don’t be shy,” he husked, hot breath ghosting over their necks. “I can feel how much you want me. That cramping ache of lust for what I can do.” A muscle in Steve’s jaw ticked and Chris whimpered, shifting in his seat.

“You know, consorts are sought after the Verse over.” He smoothed his hands over their chests, humming his approval at the muscles he felt under his touch. “We’re trained solely for pleasure. The things this body has been conditioned to do,” he stood and ran a hand down his torso, “to endure. Just think – a lover with no limits, no gag reflex, no pain threshold.”

Alona gasped and Annie’s eyes went wide. Jared smirked at them and gave them a salacious wink, mistaking their disturbed expression as impressed.

“That offer is still on the table, Steve. What do you say?”

“No, Jared,” Steve muttered, eyes forward. Steve held Chris’ hand to the table to keep it from wandering.

Shocked, Jared jerked back. Composing himself, he went to Misha, hand snaking its way down the holy man’s chest. “What do you say, preacher? Denial isn’t good for the soul, it only makes our cravings worse.”

“Indulgence isn’t good for the soul either, Jared,” Misha stopped Jared’s hand with his own, squeezing it fondly. “Why don’t you stop this?”

Jared snatched his hand away, like Misha’s touch physically hurt. “That may be true, shepherd, but you’ve never indulged in me.” His shoulder twitched.

“Jared,” Sophia stepped up to his side. “Let’s go lay down. You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

Jensen noticed that the angry flush on Jared’s face and neck hadn’t faded, the color deepening to a rich burgundy. Sweat dampened the hair at his forehead and temples and fine tremors shook his frame.

“Mmmm, Sophia,” Jared hummed, his large hand coming up to cradle her face. “My training was focused more on men, but I was shown how to pleasure a woman in case my betrothed wanted to share. I could show you what I learned and maybe you could teach me what you know.” His left hand ran down her neck, slipping over her shoulder to trail down her side. “A little professional quid pro quo?”

Sophia took his hands in hers and held them still between them. “Jared, you’re sick. Let me help you.”

“Everyone wants to help me!” Jared pulled his hands away and threw them in the air. “You are worried about my health, the preacher is worried about my eternal soul, but nobody is concerned about what I need.”

“What do you need, Jared?” Annie stood, more kindness in her eyes than Jensen had ever seen.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jared leered at her. “You gonna give me what I need?” He rounded the end of the table to be closer to her. “I’ll let you manhandle me. A purveyor of the meeker gender like yourself, I bet you have a nice selection of strap-ons.”

“Fen!” Milo grabbed his arm.

“Ooh, big brother,” Jared rounded on his twin, plastering his front to Milo’s. “Wanna take up that offer for a threesome, yourself? You, me and little Alona there. Show her just how alike we are?” He reached down and grabbed Milo’s crotch to emphasize his point, his breathing coming fast and hard.

“Fen, no!” Milo pushed his hand away, stepping back out of Jared’s reach.

Jared’s face turned murderous, the angry flush darkening his complexion. “What? Oh, right. Can’t sully the perfect Milo? You ashamed of me, brother?” He spat and Milo paled at the accusation. “I know what the family thinks of me. _Weak, little Jared_ ,” he lilted in a mocking, sing-song voice, “such a disappointment. Let’s shut him away so nobody will see him. Secret him away to the Academy, let Uncle Fabian _mold_ him into the perfect submissive.”

Jensen was moving slowly along the edge of the room, trying to position himself behind the agitated young man in case he needed to do…something. He paused, his stomach twisting at the way Jared sneered the word ‘mold’ as unease prickled at the base of his skull. From the corner of his eye, he could see a similar look on Sophia’s face.

Jared launched himself at his twin, pressing their bodies together and shimmying against him. The movement was aggressive, more punishment than seduction. “Don’t you want to see how good a student I was? Show you how well I learned my lessons?” He licked a stripe down Milo’s neck, skimming his lips over the other man’s shoulder to bite down on the phoenix tattoo inked there. “Uncle Fabian was always _satisfied_.”

Milo appeared too stunned to move. Jared growled in frustration, hands becoming more insistent – nails leaving red lines in their wake – and hips more forceful.

Jensen came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Jared’s chest, pulling his away from his shell-shocked brother. He tugged Jared close, holding him fast to his chest, feeling the hummingbird patter of Jared’s heart on his breastbone. “Jared, that’s enough now,” He murmured in the young man’s ear, voice low and soothing.

“No, let me go! Unless you’re going to put those hands to good use, get them off of me!” Jared fought against Jensen’s hold, body writhing and legs bucking. He twisted around, his body now chest-to-chest with Jensen, red-hot anger burning in his eyes and hands coming up between them to try and push Jensen away. “Off, you goram hypocrite. You’re just as bad as he is,” Jared threw a hateful glance at Milo. “You want me, but you keep sending me away. Too dirty for a pirate like you.” He wiggled his hips, delicious friction skittering pleasure up Jensen’s spine. “What you consider tainted, some think of as a blessing.”

Jensen gritted his teeth and canted his hips back, away from the temptation that Jared was teasing him with. Jensen held on tighter, limiting Jared’s movements while Jared continued to struggle. “Jared, you have to stop now. It’s over. I’ve got you.” Jensen’s voice remained calm despite the raging emotions coursing through him. He could feel the heat emanating from Jared, his sweat soaking into Jensen’s clothes.

Like Jensen’s words flipped a switch, Jared fell limp in Jensen’s arms, body crumpling in the older man’s hold.

“Jared!” Jensen cried out, cradling the man close to his chest. “Jared!” He shook him slightly, but didn’t get a response. “Jared!”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Jensen’s heart thundered in his chest as he descended the stairs, adrenaline-fueled fear for the man in his arms ratcheting the beats more than the exertion of carrying the dead weight. He adjusted his hold to secure his grip, and stumbled across the common room to the Med Bay.

Jensen stopped just inside the door, eyes surveying the room and taking in the general appearance. To keep Jared from distracting the crew while the cattle were loaded, Milo had tasked his younger brother with inventorying and organizing the medical supplies. Jared apparently had been unable to finish before it was time to prepare dinner and the evidence of his work was scattered over the exam tables and counters.

“Move that stuff, now!” Jensen barked, squeezing Jared tighter to his chest when the tone elicited a semi-lucid whimper from the boy. Ordinarily, Jensen would never speak to his crew so severely, but Jared was still limp in his arms, burning up, and he couldn’t rustle up enough concern to give a damn about niceties at the moment.

The items quickly disappeared from the main exam table in the middle of the room and he ever-so-gently laid Jared on the padded surface. He looked over the flushed body at the other side of the table to see Alona, clutching rolls of gauze to her chest, eyes wide in what Jensen was relieved to see was concern for the young man and not fear at Jensen’s harsh tone.

“Thank you, Al,” he said softly, trying to gentle her. Out of everyone on the crew, she was the softest touch and seeing Jared collapse, unconscious, had rattled her more than the rest. “Why don’t you wait outside with Soph while Milo has a look at Jared?” He reached over to tug the gauze from her frightened grip.

Brown eyes, curtained under worried brows, slowly tracked from Jared to Jensen and then turned confusedly to the supplies being carefully taken from her. Blinking in surprise, she opened her hands, letting the items fall into Jensen’s waiting hands and took a step back. She bit her lip nervously and teetered at the edge of the room, helpless gaze on Jared.

“Go on,” Jensen urged, jutting his chin in the direction of Sophia standing on the other side of the glass. “Let Milo work.”

The blonde girl nodded and slowly made her way out the door to the gathered crew standing sentinel outside the Med Bay, all watching the goings-on inside with anxious faces.

Milo scurried around the room, drawers opening and slamming shut, medical supplies and curses falling in equal measure. He dumped everything on the rolling tray that Jared had knocked over the previous morning and using a pair of trauma scissors quickly made short work of the sheer fabric pretending to be Jared’s outfit for the day. His hands fluttered above his twin’s now bare body, electrodes appearing in their wake on lightly tanned skin. The monitor flickered to life and Milo stood transfixed, watching the readings that Jensen didn’t have a prayer of understanding.

“Temperature is 104,” the dark-haired man murmured, rummaging through the items on the tray until he found a small vial and a syringe. He carefully drew up the liquid, eyes dancing between the work in his hands and Jared’s vitals on the screen.

“What is it? What’s wrong with him?” Jensen didn’t realize that his hand was lightly tracing a path up the inside of Jared’s arm until the young man on the table moaned and Jensen’s fingers unconsciously curled around the slim bicep to offer some semblance of comfort.

The needle pierced the flesh of Jared’s arm and the drug was slowly injected into his body. Milo ran a hand over his brother’s sweaty brow, fear and worry swirling in his eyes. “I don’t know. Everything points to an infection, but the scanners aren’t detecting any malignant bacteria or viruses.”

“You sure the scanners are working right?” Jensen had made sure that the Persephone had a functioning Med Bay, a luxury some ship captains either couldn’t afford or couldn’t be bothered with. Though he understood that his limited funds had only allowed him to stock it with the most rudimentary of equipment. It was perfectly adequate for patching up the occasional bullet or stab wound, but when it came to diagnosing the varied nuances of an illness, it could be severely lacking.

“I helped Jared calibrate everything this morning.” Milo shook his head, gaze roving over Jared on the bed and brow furrowing convulsively as his mind worked furiously to figure out what was going on with his brother. Helpless blue eyes lifted to Jensen’s face. “I’m not a doctor. My training was focused more on field medicine, traumatic injuries. Jared has better experience with pathophysiology, but if I didn’t know better…” His left eye ticked and his gaze drifted off in thought.

“If you didn’t know better, what?” Jensen prompted, voice strangled as he tightly reined it in to keep from shouting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was being poisoned, but the scanners should be able to pick it up. Even plant based derivatives have markers that are detectable.”

Jensen jerked back in shock. _Poison?_ There was a connection that his mind would have never made. “What makes you think he was poisoned?”

Milo bit his lip, eye twitch worsening as his mind wandered deeper into his memories. “I’ve seen…”

Jared whimpered again and his legs kicked out restlessly on the bed. His head thrashed back and forth, hair scratching against the padded cushion of the table. A shudder roiled through his slight frame, shaking him violently, and his eyelids opened enough that clouded hazel was visible through the slits. “No,” he moaned, “please stop!” He writhed, body coming dangerously close to the edge with each movement.

Milo placed his hand on Jared’s shoulder to keep the boy from rolling off. “Jared? Come on, Fen.” He shook the arm gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Jared jerked, his entire body clearing the table by a fraction of an inch.

“Jared!” Milo’s voice dropped in register in the hopes that the authoritative tone would reach his brother’s subconscious. “Stay still!” He grabbed both of Jared’s shoulders and pinned him to the bed.

Jared’s eyes flew open and Jensen had a moment to register the panic and terror there before Jared lashed out, striking Milo with enough force to knock him to the ground. “No!” He screamed, face feral as baser instincts kicked in and he tried to get up from the table.

Jensen reacted quickly, grabbing the young man by the arms to prevent him from fleeing. “Jared, stop! Please!”

Jared’s legs flailed, one hitting the overhead lamp and shattering the bulb. Shards of glass rained down on them, nicking the exposed skin on both men. The only light came from the common room through the large windows, weakly illuminating the space.

Even though Jensen didn’t think it possible, when the room fell into half-darkness, Jared’s eyes widened further, the terror in them intensifying. He fought harder, twisting and wriggling to avoid Jensen’s grip, already too loose to be effective, handicapped by the captain’s wish to keep from hurting him and the blood slicking his torso and arms from the small cuts made by the broken glass. “No! Let me go! Please! Let. Me. Go!” Jared continued to struggle but his waifish form was no match for Jensen’s battle earned bulk and Jensen had him easily subdued, hard hands on straining biceps. Jared stared up at him with unfocused eyes and Jensen knew that whatever Jared was seeing wasn’t what was really there.

“Please, Fabian,” Jared begged and the sound wrenched something loose in Jensen. “I’m sorry! Please!” Jared bent his elbow, fingers plucking at fabric of Jensen’s sleeves. “Please! I won’t fight anymore. I’ll be a good boy. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave me in the dark.” Jared implored, tears glistened in the corner of his eyes.

Milo groaned, rubbing the back of his head where it connected with the cabinet in his fall. He slowly made his way to his feet, but Jensen paid him no mind, attention riveted on the pleading boy under his hands.

“Please! I’ll be a good boy. I promise, uncle, I promise.” Jared clutched at Jensen’s shirt and clung to him desperately, sobs slurring the words. “Please! Not the dark.”

“Ssssh, Jared,” Jensen released his hold on one of Jared’s arms now that the man was no longer struggling. “Everything is fine.” He ran his fingers through Jared’s sweat matted hair. “Get some lights on in here,” he growled at Milo who stared on in horrified shock.

“Promise,” Jared’s fingers tightened further and Jensen could hear the seams on his sleeves begin to rend. “Please!”

The spare lamp flicked on and flooded the room in stark, white light. Pupils contracting sharply with the sudden influx of light, Jared blinked furiously and sighed in relief, his entire body going lax. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Jensen turned his head from side to side, rubbing his eyes on his shirt to wipe away the wetness of his own eyes that the abrupt change in brightness had causedt. “Ssssh, Jared,” Jensen soothed again, hand still petting over the soft, brown locks. “It’s all right.”

“I’m a good boy,” Jared mumbled, nuzzling into Jensen’s comforting touch. “I’m a good boy.”

Jensen let go of Jared’s other arm and placed his hand on the sick man’s chest, rubbing circles over the pounding heart. “Yes, Jared. You’re a good boy.”

Jared sighed again and closed his fever-glazed eyes. As sleep claimed him, his body relaxed, but the tension didn’t completely leave him.

Jensen counted the rise and fall of his hand, tracked the depth and regularity until he was sure that Jared was asleep, and then removed it from the younger man’s chest. Fingers still moving through the damp strands, giving and receiving comfort with each pass, Jensen licked his lips and willed his worried body to calm. Taking a few measured breaths in a desperate bid to control his temper, syncing them with the slumbering boy’s, Jensen turned his attention to the quiet man across from him. “You want to explain what just happened?”

Milo considered his brother with unblinking eyes, confusion and worry pulling at his features. “I…” he closed his mouth and shook his head, swallowing. “I don’t know. Jared’s never been afraid of the dark

“I think it’s safe to say he is now.” Jensen studied the surly twin, once again his heart softening at the devastated look on the man’s face. If Jensen had thought for a moment that Milo was responsible for Jared’s current state, those thoughts were gone. Milo might be cold and detached, trained by the Alliance to be a soldier, impersonal, but he was a brother. One who cared deeply for his sibling and right now was just as lost on how to help his brother as Jensen was.

“This uncle? Fabian? He’s the one that runs Oiran?”

Milo nodded his head, gaze still riveted on Jared. “My father’s brother. He’s been in charge of Oiran since my grandfather was head of the family. Father doesn’t care for him much, some falling out before Jared and I were born, so Fabian wasn’t around much when we were children.”

Jared shifted his head and pushed further into Jensen’s soothing touch. His face was relaxed now, sleep stripping away the masks – fear, seduction, submission – and leaving behind the youthful countenance of the true Jared, the man Jensen had seen glimpses of. Jensen was again hit with the thought that something had happened to Jared to force him to hide behind those false fronts and the captain hoped that one day, Jared could be himself full time.

“I had me an uncle once. Virgil. He was married to my momma’s sister. Real son of a bitch. Drank too much and too often and when that demon took hold, he wasn’t himself. Became real heavy-handed with punishments,” Jensen flicked a glance up at Milo, “and my aunt and cousins bore the brunt. Momma brought them to stay with us for a while after a particularly brutal bender. Little Lizzie and Michael, they’d have nightmares. Call out in their sleep, plead for help, beg _Daddy_ for mercy.”

Jensen let his words hang in the air, watched the dawning comprehension light up Milo’s eyes.

“You think Fabian…” The hissed question trailed off as an angry flush replaced the paleness of Milo’s skin.

“I don’t know what to think, but your brother has been through something and your uncle is the one he’s begging. It ain’t hard to draw some conclusions that the man is involved somehow.”

Jared moaned softly and turned on his side, dislodging one of the sensors on his chest. An alarm beeped and Milo reached over to quickly replace the electrode before the noise could rouse his brother. He pressed the back of his hand gently against the warm flesh of Jared’s shoulder and checked the monitor. “His temperature is coming down.” He leveled the captain with a serious gaze. “I can run some more tests and treat his symptoms, but I think it’s time we find one of those fugitive-friendly doctors you mentioned yesterday.”

Jensen straightened and nodded. “Let me know if the tests show anything or if he gets worse.” He was almost to the door when Milo’s voice stopped him.

“Captain?”

Jensen turned around, eyebrows arched in anticipation.

“What ever happened to that uncle of yours?”

Jensen tilted his head, an odd smirk on his face. “Not long after Michael turned sixteen, Lizzie hurt her arm. Nearly wrenched it clean from the socket…falling over an ottoman.” He quirked his eyebrow wryly. “That night, the old bastard died in his sleep of lead poisoning. Damnedest thing.”

The two men exchanged glances and Milo dipped his head in understanding.

“Keep me advised.” Jensen made his way out of the Med Bay to his waiting crew.

Annie approached him, expression calm but he’d known her long enough to see the concern in eyes. “Misha’s gone to see if he can find the nearest doctor. Said something about the local abbeys might know someone more god-fearing than Alliance-obeying.”

“Good,” Jensen nodded. He and the preacher might not see eye-to-eye on moral righteousness, but right now he was thankful for any contacts that might lead them to someone who could help Jared.

Annie stepped closer, eyes furtive like she didn’t know how this next question might be received. “What about the cattle?”

Jensen took a deep breath. Jared was in dire straits and needed a doctor if he hoped to survive whatever was attacking his body, but the crew needed the payout from this delivery if they all hoped to survive whatever Quinto had planned for them. In good conscious, Jensen, couldn’t let the need of one man put the lives of eight others in danger.Even if that one man was Jared. Through the glass, the monitor at Jared’s bedside was visible – the electronic readouts showing a steady heartbeat and a temperature hovering at 100 degrees. “Minas is only a day away and Jared’s stable for now. We make the drop, get paid and then hightail it to the nearest doctor.”

Annie nodded. “What if Jared takes a turn for the worse?”

Jensen licked his lips. “Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.” He focused his attention on the room at large and the crew gathered there. “Send out some feelers. I want to know everything you can find out about this Oiran Academy and Fabian Flynn. I don’t care if you get the information by fair or by foul, just get it.” He cupped his hand under Sophia’s arm as she moved past him to fulfill his wishes. “I think it’s time you and I have that talk about what you found out on Ariel.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd. I think my beautiful beta is digging her way out of a snowbank!

Jensen followed Sophia into her shuttle, dropping heavily onto the plush couch. Sophia crossed to the sideboard and busied herself with a teapot and cups.

“I don’t need tea, Soph. I need answers,” Jensen gruffed, grabbing a throw pillow and fisting the corners in his frustration.

She ignored him, calmly finishing her task in silence. She carried the tray to the low table, perfect posture preventing a spilled drop, and placed the setting down, taking a seat on the loveseat.

“While on Arachne, I accompanied Gavin to a party where I was introduced to a friend of his, a Duke.” She added a teaspoon of sweetener to one of the cups with a practiced hand, spoon moving silently through the liquid. “He was well-versed in a variety of topics and a rather loud conversationalist.” Balancing the cup on a delicate saucer, she placed it in front of him.

“Sophia,” Jensen interrupted, twisting the pillow, “when I said I wanted to know what you found, I wasn’t asking about prospective marks.”

“This Duke,” Sophia continued, pouring a vial of pink liquid into her own tea and stirring it, “was accompanied by his newly-wedded husband, Ethan. I overhead him mention that the boy was a Consort and had been trained at Oiran.” She set the spoon down on the edge of the saucer and picked the cup up. Cradling it in her hands, she leaned back.

Jensen sat forward, tossing the pillow on the seat beside him. “He was from Oiran?”

“Yes.” Sophia rested the cup on her thigh. “Ethan was quite pale and looked like he’d been seriously ill lately. When someone commented on it, the Duke said that it had come on suddenly. They’d just finished their honeymoon where apparently Ethan had been,” she paused for a moment searching for the right word, “ _insatiable_ when Ethan collapsed.”

“Insatiable?” Jensen raised an eyebrow. This story sounded gut-clenchingly familiar.

Sophia nodded. “According to the Duke’s boasting, he’d spent the entirety of their honeymoon satisfying his new husband and finding other playmates for the times when he wasn’t enough to quench Ethan’s appetite. Something, I gathered, that wasn’t hard to do since Ethan had proven himself quite the flirt.”

“Wait, he shared his…” Jensen shook his head, cutting off his own sentence. Milo had already told him that Consorts were considered little more than bed slaves and he seemed to recall Jared mentioning something about being trained to pleasure women in case his husband wanted to share him. “You said he collapsed. Like Jared did?”

“From the sounds of it.”

“But he was better right? I mean he must have been if he was at the party.” For the first time since Jared buckled in his arms, Jensen felt a little bubble of hope.

“Ethan was sent back to Oiran and was treated there. Their facility was the only place that could figure out what was wrong with him. It was really too early in his recovery to have been at the party. He was still very weak and exhausted by the end of the night. The Duke did assure me that the doctor said there should be no lasting effects from the episode that would require him to demand a refund.”

For the first time since knowing her, Jensen saw derision on Sophia’s elegant face and he couldn’t agree more. “This Duke sounds like a real peach. Ethan is a lucky man,” he snarked, sarcastically.

“He actually is,” she said lowly, taking a sip of her tea.

There was something in Sophia’s tone, a ring of truthfulness, that set alarms off in Jensen’s head and heart, that little bubble of hope solidifying into a ball of worry. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not an illness, Jen. At least not a natural one,” she conceded. “When I arrived on Ariel, I contacted the Guild and told them I had been in contact with a Consort who’d recently been sick with an unidentified disease. I expressed my deep concern that he might be contagious and my worry that I might pass it on to one of my clients.” She blinked innocently. “They checked into it for me. It’s a security measure to prevent any of the Consorts-in-training from escaping Oiran. Whatever it is, is removed or disconnected or made inert by the Academy when the Consort’s marriage contract is finalized.”

“When they’re bought and paid for,” Jensen corrected. “So, if one of the trainees makes a break for it, he starts to get sick,” Jensen was pondering out loud, “and Oiran is the only place that can cure him.”

“Which insures that the wayward Consort returns,” Sophia added, taking another sip. “Ethan was obviously overlooked and it was fortunate that the Duke contacted the Academy about a refund when the doctors couldn’t diagnose him.”

Jensen ignored the refund comment, mind onto more pressing matters. They couldn’t take Jared to Oiran for treatment. “What if they don’t?” Jensen hands cupped his knees, fingernails biting into the skin through the fabric of his pants. “Soph, what happens if they don’t go back to Oiran?”

Sophia hesitated, face sympathetic, and Jensen could feel his frightened heart pounding in his chest. “I did some research and called in a few favors. Three trainees didn’t come back. One died in a hospital on Ceres, the second at a clinic on Shosha, the third was never found, but has been listed as deceased.”

So they either condemned Jared to slavery or condemned him to death.

 

*****

 

Jensen wandered back to the Infirmary trying to think of a way to tell Milo what he’d learned while still coming to grips with the information himself. He’d only known Jared for a short time, but already knew that his passing would pain him deeply. He stood outside the doors to the darkened Infirmary searching for composure and rubbing the ache in his chest when none could be found. Taking a breath, he stepped inside.

The bed where Jared was laying when he left was now empty, the mattress gone to reveal the metal frame. His eyes followed the sole source of light, a lamp pointed down at the ground on the other side of the bed. Brow furrowed, he rounded the end and in the dimness nearly tripped over two sets of shoe-clad feet. Catching himself on the headrest, he peered down to find Milo and Misha sitting shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall, their arms draped over their bent knees.

“What…”

“Shhh,” Misha shushed, finger coming up to his lips. “You’ll wake him.” He looked at the patch of spotlighted floor and Jensen followed his line of sight to see Jared curled up on the removed mattress.

He crouched down on level with the two other men. “What’s going on?” He cast a sidelong glance at the older Flynn twin, feeling his scrutinizing gaze on him.

“Jared was thrashing too much. We decided to lay him on the floor before he fell off the bed and injured himself.” Misha peered around Jensen to check on the unconscious man when he whimpered.

Jensen looked back over his shoulder, his heart breaking. Jared was so pale save for two bright spots of red on the apples of his cheeks and his breathing was shallow and strained.

 _It’s already killing him._ Jensen closed his eyes, throat tightening at the impossible situation.

“No!”

Jensen was pulled from his thoughts by the sharp exhale, the word sounding wrecked and hopeless. He spun around to see the most broken expression he’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing on Milo’s face. “Milo…”

“He…” Water filled eyes flew past Jensen to look at his twin. “No, he…” The young man swallowed and gasped. “There has to be…” Milo licked his lips, panting. “It can’t be true.”

Jensen ducked his head, warmth itching along his eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

Milo scrambled to his brother’s side. “No, not now, not Jared, please.” Brown eyes sought Jensen, implored him, begging him to make it better. Misha moved to the bereft man’s side, his arm circling Milo’s heaving shoulders.

Jensen stood, unable to be still in the face of such overwhelming loss and despair. He wandered out of the room, leaving Misha to console Milo, knowing no comfort of his own. His feet navigated the ship completely on memory, seeming to take him where they knew his chaotic mind needed to go. His boots rang out loud on the metal stairs, echoing in the relative quiet of the ship, as he climbed up to the bridge.

Steve and Annie were bent over the console, fingers leaving smudges on a screen depicting a star chart.

“What about his planet?” Annie’s short clipped nail tapped a small circle on the right side of the display.

“Canton,” Steve shook his head sadly. “Mudder colony. Definitely nothing in the way of sophisticated medical knowledge or technology. I’ve heard that Mudder’s Milk can cure what ails you, but I don’t think this is what they meant. Plus, they aren’t much for outsiders. Except Chris’ brother, Jayne. They love him.”

“Really?” Annie had met Jayne once and she honestly didn’t know how Chris’ mother had stayed sane raising them.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, a mix of surprised and impressed. “Have a huge statue of him in the square. They even composed a ballad about him.”

Annie threw her head back and laughed, the normally joyous sound sour and discordant to Jensen’s ragged nerves. He took a slow breath to center himself and fought to keep the sharpness on the tip of his tongue out of his voice. “Anything?”

Annie snapped up guiltily, her laugh dying a quick death, and Steve’s smile faded. She squared her shoulders and swallowed, battle-honed composure slipping over her easily. “Nothing so far, sir. We’ve been scoping out nearby planets for medical help after we make the drop, but this area is pretty remote.”

“If there’s a rim to the Rim planets,” Steve glanced down at the map, “we’re there. Great place for smuggling deals, not so much for doctoring. Most of these people’s idea of healing ain’t much better than witchcraft. I’ve got Gabe searching, but…”

Jensen nodded, fidgety fingers tapping off-beat against his right hip. “How long until we’re at the rendezvous point?”

Steve screwed up his mouth in thought, narrowed eyes turned to the ceiling as he mentally calculated. “Ten hours.” He considered for a moment. “Nine, if I push it.”

Jensen laid his hand on the bulkhead. “Push it,” he commanded, running his hand lightly over the cold steel. “She can take it.” He turned to leave, patting her lovingly. _Come on baby, Jared needs you._

*****

 

He went down to the cargo bay, stood on the railing and watched the cattle mill around the hold. There was something calming about being around livestock, a sense of home in the smell and sounds. Before the freedom promised by the black seduced him, Jensen had thought he’d own a ranch one day, settle down with a wife and a couple of kids.

He huffed a laugh at himself. He kind of went to the total opposite on that in every aspect. He looked down at the callouses on his hands, thickened skin from working a weapon rather than working land.

There was a mournful moo from beneath him and he raised an eyebrow at a caramel colored heifer staring at him with large, seemingly judging brown eyes.

“What are you looking at?”

The cow continued to watch him laconically, its long thick tongue snaking out, the tip coming up and dipping into its left nostril. Its tail swished back and forth, the tassel at the end swinging up to lightly slap against its side.

“I’ve already checked on him. I’ve got no reason to do it again.” He picked at the rough cuticle on his thumb. “Besides, his brother’s tending to him. I’ll just be in the way.”

Taking a mouthful of hay, the cow chewed it, big eyes still regarding him as its jaw moved side-to-side.

“All right, I admit it.” Jensen threw his hands up. “I want to be in there with him. Don’t mean that I should be.”

The cow snorted, a long string of snot hanging from its nose.

“Fine!” Jensen pushed away from the railing. “I’m going. Bossy Bessie,” he muttered under his breath, walking toward the Common Room.

 

*****

 

Milo was asleep on the couch, a blanket tucked snuggly around him. The young man’s face twitched and ticked, mind resting but not void of the worries of his waking life. Jensen couldn’t believe that the over-protective sibling had agreed to leave Jared’s side.

He crossed to the Infirmary, heavy tread landing in a measured heel-to-toe to dampen the sound of his steps, the door opening with a pneumatic hiss. Misha was still against the wall, but had moved closer to Jared. His head was bowed low and his lips moved soundlessly around words of petition to a forgetful Father. Feeling Jensen’s presence, he looked up from his prayer. Jensen shot him a quizzical look and jerked his head in the direction of the sleeping twin outside.

“I gave him something to help him sleep. He was so emotional that, even in his condition, Jared sensed him and became agitated.” Misha kneaded the tense muscles in his neck.

“He let you dose him?” Jensen slid down the wall to Misha’s left, his boots squeaking against the tiled floor.

“Didn’t ask.” Was all Misha said and Jensen noticed an empty syringe lying next to one filled with an amber liquid on the floor between their hips. He wondered how Misha had snuck up on Milo enough to inject him. Milo was well trained, his senses honed to detect attack. Add to that his psychic abilities, getting the drop on him had to be nigh on impossible. Before he could ask, Jared shifted on the mattress and whimpered.

Misha slipped forward and laid his hand, gentle and reassuring, against Jared’s exposed arm. The boy didn’t wake, but jerked violently away from the contact. Misha snatched his hand away and sighed wearily, scooting back to his place beside Jensen.

“He does that any time one of us touches him.” The preacher stared longingly at Jared, his need to comfort clear on his face.

“This is more than just sickness. Ain’t never seen a poison make someone react like that.” Jensen curled his hands into the seams of his pants, gripping the fabric tight to keep from reaching out to Jared. “Something powerful bad happened to him at Oiran.”

“Agreed,” Misha nodded, face grim. “I’m afraid of what demons he faced there.” Normally vibrant blue eyes were hazy with exhaustion and the skin underneath was smudged black.

“Go to bed, Mish.” Jensen slapped him on the knee, crinkling his brow when Jared twitched at the sound. “I’ll sit up with him.”

Misha deliberated for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

The preacher gave him a tired smile and stood. “If his fever comes back, use that.” He jerked his head at the full syringe. Looking at Jared one last time, he ducked his head and disappeared out the door.

Jensen leaned his head back against the cold wall and let Jared’s short breaths lull him into a trance.

 

*****

 

Jensen tilted his head down at Jared’s quiet groan. He didn’t know how long it had been since Misha left. He’d let his mind drift – float away from all the thoughts trying to drown him – and had lost all track of time.

Jared thrashed, body fighting against the sweat drenched sheets cocooning his body. A quick check of the monitor confirmed the return of his fever, the red 103 flashing warningly.

“No, please,” Jared begged, actions becoming frantic as the sheet tightened around his legs with his struggles.

“Jay, buddy.” Jensen moved to help, but remembered Misha’s words about touch. His hands hovered uselessly over the sick boy, unsure what to do. “It’s okay, Jare. Calm down. You’re safe.”

The whines and flailing didn’t stop, but lessened at the sound of Jensen’s voice then regained their vigor when Jensen’s soothing words stopped.

“Please! I’m sorry.” Jared tone was growing panicked, a sharp edge of hysteria causing it to break.

“Jare? Jay!”

Jensen’s voice didn’t have an impact as Jared was lost to his memories, his nightmares.

“Please. I’ll learn. Wanna be a good boy.” Tears cut wet swatches down Jared’s cheeks, soaking into his hair.

Desperate, Jensen unconsciously laid a hand on Jared’s arm. He barely managed to keep it there when shock ricocheted through him at Jared instantaneously relaxing at the touch. Reaching back with his free arm, he grabbed the syringe off the floor and plunged the needle into Jared’s bicep.

Jared whimpered at the prick and shivered, pushing into the warmth of Jensen’s hand and mewling plaintively.

Nobody had ever accused Jensen of common-sense or forethought – he was more of a ‘shoot first, question never’ personality, a creature of instinct and action – and now was no exception. He stretched out on the small mattress behind Jared, arm curling around him to pull him close. Jared melted into him, body pliant.

“Be a good boy,” Jared breathed, hips rolling back against Jensen.

Jensen’s eyes fluttered shut at the delicious friction, body not understanding that now was not the time. His large hand cupped the bony prominence of Jared’s hip and stilled his movements. “Sleep, Jared.”

A low sound, somewhere between fear and hurt rolled up Jared’s chest. He tried to move despite Jensen’s staying hand.

“Sleep,” Jensen commanded again, letting an authoritative timber thicken his words. “Everything’s all right, Jay. Just sleep.” He moved his arm back to Jared’s waist and hugged him tight to his body.

Jared whined, pawing pleadingly at Jensen’s arm around him. “Imma good boy?”

Jensen’s heart ached at the broken words, like a child seeking reassurance of love from an angry parent. “Yes, Jared,” he whispered into the soft locks at Jared’s temple, “you’re a good boy.”

Jared sigh was soft and relived. Jensen closed his eyes and held him snug, listening to each labored breath, holding his own when the next didn’t come when expected. He pressed a kiss to Jared’s shoulder blade, the skin there not as hot as before. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he rubbed his hand over Jared’s stomach, jaw clenching at the ladder rung feel of each rib.

“Whatever they did to you, Jared, I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

 

*****

 

Something solid slammed into the small of Jensen’s back, rocking him forward into Jared and punching a grunt of pain from his lungs. He opened his eyes, hand smoothing over Jared’s chest when the boy moaned, and turned to see what had run into him.

Milo loomed over him with blazing eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he hissed.

Jensen raised up on his elbow and let his hand rest on Jared’s side. “His fever came on in the night and he started having a nightmare.” Jensen kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the younger man. Jared seemed calm and, from the feel of him, was enjoying a respite from the fever. “I tried to talk to him, but he was too far in the throes. He finally stopped when I touched him.”

Milo’s head jerked back and he looked at Jensen’s hand on Jared’s side, seemingly realizing that Jensen was touching his brother and Jared was letting him. Envy shot icy fire through his being at Jensen making it past Jared’s defenses when he himself couldn’t. Swallowing down the cold burn, he refocused on what mattered most. “Is he okay?” He tried to connect with Jared, feel him through the bond they shared, but the illness was making it difficulty, only allowing him brief flashes – hurt, fear and…self-preservation?

“He slept so that’s something.” Jensen sat up, but kept his hand on Jared’s side.

“Yeah,” Milo trailed off, concentrating harder to make it through the ill-muddy haze surrounding his brother. His uncle’s face floated to the surface of his mind, eyes cold and hard and face a picture of rage.

“Milo?” Jensen could see the frown on his face.

“Captain?” Annie ducked her head in the doorway, eyes darting back and forth between Jensen, on the floor with a hand on Jared and a confused look on his face, and Milo, towering over them with a troubled expression on his.

Jensen reluctantly turned his gaze from Milo, an unsettled feeling washing over him at the sight of the normally collected man appearing rattled. “Hmmm?”

“Steve would like to see you on the bridge, sir.”

“Coming.” Jensen smoothed his hand down Jared’s side once more then levered up from the floor. Passing Milo, he paused. “You got him?”

“Always,” Milo answered without hesitation. The door hissed as the two crew members exited and Jared moved restlessly.

Dropping to his knees, Milo crawled to his brother, fingers dancing over the space between them to caress down Jared’s arm.

The reaction was immediate. Jared pulled his arm away, body convulsing with the force of the action before curling in on itself.

Milo sat back on his haunches and stared at his brother in dismay.

 

*****

 

Tom turned off the video monitor and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He sat back in his chair and let his gaze drift to the perfectly manicured grounds outside his office window. A forgotten tumbler of Archerian whisky sat at his elbow, the ice tinkling as it melted and shifted in the glass.

_Where the fuck was that little brat?_

Jared had been gone for twelve days. The longest one of their little lambs had lasted was ten before a clinic was calling them to come collect the body. Jared should be cold and starting to stink by now.

The Flynn brothers were furious and without the source of their frustration present and available they were turning the brunt of their annoyance on him. JD was pressuring them to see his husband-to-be and they, in turn, were leaning on Tom to produce Jared. Shit rolled downhill and he was sitting at the base of the mountain.

The console on the desk beeped and he leaned forward to answer, hoping for once it was good news. He squinted at the poorly lit image on the screen, the silhouette of a man focusing into a familiar figure. “Please tell me you have something.”

Timothy Olyphant wiped his hands on a purple silk neckerchief, the crimson staining it black in places. He snagged an empty crate and settled on it. “Jared has bartered his way on a smuggling ship, Firefly class.”

“You’ve found him?” Welling sat up, the beginnings of hope fluttering in his chest.

“Not yet,” Timothy shrugged, “but I’m not far behind. My source,” he spared a glance over his shoulder at something that Tom couldn’t see, “says he was here, on Ariel, two days ago.”

“Are you certain?” Tom sighed and sat back, relaxing when he realized that Jared wasn’t close at hand. “Ever since the Alliance posted the reward, Jared has been spotted from one end of the Verse to the other.”

“Oh, this guy is reliable,” The corner of Olyphant’s lip tugged up into a smirk. “I overheard him bragging at the local cantina…”

“Spare me the ramblings of your beloved barflies.” Bored, Tom picked up his tumbler and swirled the remaining ice.

“This _barfly_ was telling the other patrons about his encounter with a Consort.” Timothy tossed the dirty cloth on the floor, unaffected by the interruption. “A Consort with long brown hair and hazel eyes.”

“There are dozens of consorts that fit that description. In fact, two of the magistrates on Ariel have former students of mine that could easily be the Consort he was talking about.” Unimpressed, Tom took a sip of the whisky and let the taste sit on his tongue. Resting the glass on the arm of the chair, he swallowed. “How do you know he wasn’t sharing one of those boys?”

“A Consort with brown hair, hazel eyes and a strawberry birthmark just below his left collarbone?” This time a raised eyebrow accompanied the smirk.

Tom’s eyes went wide and he lurched forward in his chair again. “We left that out of the reward information.”

“Believe my barfly now?” The Alliance agent pulled a box of matches from this vest pocket. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Apparently your little Jared made a memorable impression. If the boasting is true then your boy is quite the minx. The brother had to physically drag him off the guy when he tried to have his way right there on the cargo bay floor.”

A cold smile grew on Tom’s face, turning his handsome features cruel. If their shy kitten was acting like a cat in heat then the poison was indeed affecting him. “Did your source happen to know where this ship…”

“Persephone,” Timothy supplied, thumb caressing the Blue Sun logo on the small cardboard box in this hands.

“Did your source know where this Persephone was headed after they left Ariel?” Mood brightened at the possibility of a tangible lead, Tom took a healthy swig of his drink.

Nodding, Timothy pushed the insert out of the sleeve, revealing the red sulfurous heads before sliding it back to hide them away again. “The captain made a deal with a man named Tudyk to move some property off world. My source didn’t have any more details than that so I was going to pay Mr. Tudyk a visit when I finished up here.”

“Good.” The tumbler was placed back on the desk. “I don’t think I have to remind you how important it is to my employers that Jared be found. His return is their greatest concern.”

“And his condition upon arrival?” Timothy gave a knowing look.

“Is not their concern. They only need to be able to produce him when requested. Any…damage can be explained away as a by-product of his brother’s kidnapping. However,” Tom’s expression became lecherous, “I would consider it a personal boon if he was captured alive.”

“Understood,” Timothy acknowledged. “I’ll check in after my meeting with Tudyk. And Welling? I expect my next payment to be deposited before the end of the day.”

Tom gave a jerky nod then pressed the button to disconnect the call. He grabbed the glass and finished the remaining liquor, insulting the fineness of the spirits by gulping it down. He might not have Jared yet, but at least he had something to report during his next conversation with the Flynn brothers.

He really did hope that Olyphant found Jared alive. That boy had the sweetest mouth and the tightest ass that he’d ever seen. Shifting in his seat, pants uncomfortably tight as memories of Jared’s training sessions played in his mind’s eye, Tom pressed the green button on the edge of his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Welling?” A lilting female voice floated through the intercom.

“Have Thad brought to Training Room 5 and cancel my appointments for the rest of the afternoon. I think it’s time I refreshed my instructional skills.”

 

*****

 

Timothy turned from the portable monitor to the slouched figure seated behind him. The bonds prevented the barely conscious man from falling from his chair and the gag kept him silent. Visible portions of skin were mottled black, blue and red while blood dripped from several wounds littering his face and neck. The man lolled his head back and attempted to open his swollen eyes.

Timothy nodded and a man stepped out from a darkened corner carrying a container. He approached the secured man and dowsed him in the contents of the container. Fighting against his bonds, the seated man’s face was panicked at the smell of the liquid.

“You’ve been most helpful, Mr. Sheppard.” Timothy shook the box of matches as he walked, the wooden sticks rattling with the back and forth motion and causing Sheppard’s struggles to become frantic. “But, I think I have everything that you can tell me.” He slid the box open again and pulled one of the matches out. “Now, I can’t very well have you warning your friends about me.”

With a quick flick of the wrist, the match caught and Sheppard shook his head violently, pleads and begging lost to the saliva-soaked cloth in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Olyphant said without sympathy and dropped the match at the man’s feet.

The reaction was instantaneous. The small flame ignited the fumes wafting up from the pooled liquid on the floor before it ever broke the surface of the puddle, the man’s sodden clothes quickly following. Screams reverberated off the warehouse walls as Timothy and his two silent assistants walked out the door, closing it on the roaring blaze and the fading echoes of agony.

 

*****

 

“You find something?” Jensen stepped onto the bridge, hand desperately trying to scrub the sleep and emotion from his face.

Steve was in his usual place at the ship’s helm, facing the console where Jensen could see Mr. Universe and Matt on the small, grainy display. “Yeah, I think we did.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Matt greeted politely, face turning to a scowl as Annie followed Jensen into the room. The robot sidled up behind his lover and placed a possessive hand on the genius’ chest. Jensen forced his eyes not to roll, reminding himself not to say anything that would offend the moody recluse when he obviously had something helpful.

“Wow, you look like shit!” Mr. Universe stated bluntly, taking in Jensen’s disheveled appearance.

Jensen’s fought back a smart remark and settled on, “It’s been a long few days. So what have you got?”

“Remember me saying something about a buddy of mine meeting his husband at one of the Flynn’s pleasure dens?” Steve was impatiently tapping his finger on the arm of his chair, the off-rhythm beat grating on Jensen’s nerves.

Licking his lips and shaking his head irritably, not understanding what this had to do with anything, Jensen answered, “You said something about him trading his ship for the man’s freedom.” That part of the story had stuck with Jensen. Steve’s friend had given up the freedom of the black so somebody else could have theirs.

“Right,” Steve nodded. “Sean had been trained at Oiran.”

Jensen’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “If he was a Consort, what was he doing in a pleasure den?”

“His master died,” Mr. Universe picked up the story, “and nobody in his family wanted a Consort so they returned him. Since he was used goods, he was assigned to the pleasure dens.”

Gritting his teeth at another implication that Consort were nothing more than a commodity to be traded and sold, Jensen took a deep breath. “What does this have to do with Jared?”

“About a week after they left Dionysus, Sean suddenly got sick.” Steve’s face was serious. “Deathly sick.”

“Nathan called me, scared out of his mind and halfway to crazy.” Mr. Universe paled, just the reminder of his friend’s panic shaking him. “Nobody knew what was wrong or how to treat him. Sean was dying.” His hand came up and clasped Matt’s on his chest.

Seeing the pain clear on Mr. Universe’s face and the ghost of it on Steve’s, Jensen swallowed hard. “Wh-what happened?” Jensen had the impression that Nathan’s story had ended happily, him and his husband falling off the grid and living their lives. How had he missed that the husband had died?

“I found a doctor. It wasn’t easy.” Mr. Universe ran a hand through his curly hair. “He used to work at Oiran and they aren’t the type of establishment that you just leave. He changed his name and went so deep, miners would have trouble finding him.”

“But you did?” Jensen couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.

“Of course, he did,” Matt chimed in, pride infusing every word. “He’s exceptional.”

“Not now, dear,” Mr. Universe patted Matt’s hand. “Yeah, I found him. He saved Sean’s life.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Jensen leaned forward on the panel, excitement urging him closer to the screen.

“I’ve already sent Steve the coordinates and called to let him know to expect you. He’ll be ready when you get there. But Jensen?” He locked gazes with the captain. “You need to hurry. When I told the doc Jared’s symptoms, he didn’t seem to think Jared had long, half a day at the most.”

Jensen’s throat threatened to close completely, but he forced out a quiet thanks to the awkward genius. Steve said his good-byes and the video screen when dark.

Still clutching the panel, Jensen didn’t take his eyes off the black display. “Where are we?”

Steve consulted the navigation chart. “We’re about thirty minutes from the drop off point.”

“How far to the doc?”

“About three hours at maximum speed.”

Jensen stood up and rolled his shoulders back. He leveled a steady gaze at Steve. “Tell Chris that once we land at the drop off, he has an hour to get those cows off my ship. At one hour and one minute, you put this ship in the air and get us to that doctor.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Jensen turned to Annie. “Go tell Alona I need anything and everything she can coax out of Baby’s engines.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you need me, I’ll be with Jared. Let me know if there are issues.” He strode off the bridge and headed back to the Infirmary.

 _I won’t let him die_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works Inspired By this Fic: http://phoenix1966.livejournal.com/
> 
> Please go to Phoenix1966 journal. She's created some amazing pieces inspired by my lowly little fic and I can honestly say she's spot on in her work. Give her all the love and kisses she deserves and while there...check out some of the other amazing stuff she's created and worked on. You won't be disappointed.


	9. Chapter 9

“How sure are you about this?” Milo cradled Jared to his chest, the slight weight barely a burden as he kept in close ranks behind Jensen and Annie. He felt vulnerable, knowing he’d be unable to defend himself and his brother as long as he was carrying him, but unwilling to let anyone else do it. Except maybe Jensen. He still didn’t like the Captain and stubbornly refused to trust him, but he did have to grudgingly admit that the man seemed to want to help Jared.

“Ninety percent,” Jensen nodded and shrugged. A noise sounded off to the right and he swung that way, his hand firming on the grip of his gun. He shifted back forward and caught Milo’s quirked eyebrow. “Okay, maybe eighty percent.”

“Eighty percent?” Milo echoed. “You are out of your _goram_ mind in you think I’m risking Jared on eighty percent.” He turned around to go back to the ship when another sound came from the left.

“Look, the guy who told us about this is on the level. If nothing else, I trust him.”

“Less yapping, more walking.” Chris brushed his way past them to take the lead.

“Where we’re going is a lot closer than where we were,” Jensen reasoned. Seeing Milo’s skeptical expression, he sighed, “I promise. If this doc is the slightest bit hinky, we’re gone, but at least hear him out. Our source says he can help.”

In Milo’s arms, Jared whimpered. They needed to hurry. It was well into night and the only light came from a waning moon. With Jared’s aversion to darkness, no one wanted a repeat of the Med Bay if he woke up.

“Please.” It was as close to begging as Jensen got.

Milo deliberated for a moment then jutted his chin in the direction of the doctor. Jensen nodded and waited for Milo to pass, taking Chris’ position at the rear with Steve.

Silently they made their way to the lone farmhouse that Mr. Universe had directed them to. Annie started to scale the porch steps when the door flew open. A tall silhouette and the barrel of a shotgun came into view, her own gun raising in response.

“Lady, I don’t make a habit of shooting women, but I’ve been known to make exceptions.” The voice was a smooth rumble, the owner’s features shadowed by the light spilling from the open doorway.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Jensen deadpanned, moving to the front of the group. He squinted against the light, too bright after walking in the darkening night, in a feeble attempt to put a face with a voice. “We’re looking for someone, heard he lived around here.”

The shotgun kept its steady aim on Annie. “Well, I’m afraid there’s only nobodies here. So why don’t you just turn around and head back the way you came?”

“Nate?” A soft voice floated out the doorway and a hand wrapped around the bicep of the man. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?”

The man’s arm twitched, the instinct to melt into the touch warring with his need to remain alert. “Go back inside, Gēzi. I’ll be there in a minute. Just handling some scavengers.”

“Nate?” This time it came from Steve. “Nathan? Nathan Fillion, is that you?” He stepped forward, emerging from the darkness at the back and into the light.

“Steve?” The barrel finally drooped a little, but Jensen refused to be fooled into false relief. “What are you doing here? How did you find us?”

“A mutual friend. One who understands and like anonymity.” He gave the distrustful man a pointed look. “He told us a doc lived here and our friend,” he glanced over his shoulder at Jared, “is…”

“Sick,” finished the soft voice from behind Nathan. With a startled yelp, Nathan was pushed out of the doorway by a handsome man. Drawn, he descended the stairs, heedless of Nathan’s warnings, and crossed to where Milo held Jared. Hand outstretched, he stopped short when Milo shifted Jared away from the questing touch. Curling his fingers back in, the man’s eyes lifted to Milo’s then went back to the unconscious boy.

They all watched quietly as the man studied Jared, body growing tense in alarm as he took in Jared’s state. Snapping his head up, his round eyes found Nathan’s. “He’s sick.”

“I’ve gathered. Not seeing how that’s our problem.” Nathan’s voice was gruff but Jensen could hear the underlying tenderness when directed at this new arrival.

“No,” the slighter man looked back at Jared then again at Nathan. “Sick like I was. He’s dying, Nate.”

“Sean,” Nathan moved his head side-to-side slightly, tone and eyes warning and begging the other man in equal measure.

Sean wound his way through the silent witnesses back to where Nathan stood, the grace of his steps reminding Jensen of the light-footed way Jared moved. Gently, he laid his hand on the agitated man’s arm. “We’ve been where they are, Nate. _I’ve_ been where he is. We can’t…” Shiny blue eyes turned down and he shook his head, swallowing.

In Jensen’s peripheral he could see Milo’s frame stiffen. “You were there. At Oiran.”

Nathan’s reaction was immediate, the gun coming up and securely leveled at Milo head. “What did you say?” This gaze turned hard and assessing. “Who are you?”

“He’s just like you.” Jensen stepped forward, hands held up at the gun that swiveled in his direction. “A nobody.” He signaled with his hand for the others to lower their weapons, earning a grumble from Chris before he reluctantly pointed his gun at the ground.

“Nathan,” Steve, now the one facing down the wrong end of a double barrel, kept his voice calm in the hopes of deescalating a situation that was quickly moving from bad to deadly.

Chris snarled and directed his gun at Sean, his equal and opposite reaction to Nathan’s threat.

“It’s okay, Chris.” Steve, telegraphing his movements clearly, reached over and pushed the muzzle of Chris gun down. Returning his attention to Nathan, Steve squatted and placed his gun at this feet, rising slowly. “We don’t mean any harm,” he tipped his chin at Sean, “to any of you. We’re just trying to get some doctoring for our friend.”

“Please, baobei.” Sean rested a hand reassuringly on the small of Nathan’s back. “He needs help.”

Nathan’s gun drifted away to hang limply at his side. He cupped Sean’s face with his free hand. “They’ll be looking for him. I can’t lose you.”

“You know what he’s been through.” The whisper was brought to Jensen’s ears on the quiet evening breeze, Sean’s words not meant for more than the man in front of him.

Jensen cleared his throat, embarrassed at being privy to such a private exchange. “I promise, we won’t outstay our welcome. Once the doc heals Jared, we’ll never darken your doorstep again. I don’t want to bring trouble down on you, I just want him well.”

Nathan studied Jensen for a minute and though Jensen had the urge to squirm under the inspection, he stood his ground. Finally, Nathan’s penetrating gaze left Jensen and took in the other members of the group, landing for some time on Milo, before turning to Steve. He stepped out of the doorway, “All right. Take him to the back bedroom and put him on the bed. Sean, Beaver is out in the barn.”

Sean pressed a kiss to the corner of Nathan’s mouth and breathed a quiet thanks then disappeared around the back of the house.

Milo trudged up the stairs and gave Nathan a curt nod as he moved into the house followed by Annie and Chris. Steve and Jensen lingered behind.

“Thank you, Nathan.” Steve picked up and holstered his weapon. “This mean a lot.”

“Don’t mix no bones about this, Steve. I’m doing this for Sean and for that boy,” he jerked his head toward the open door. “What those bastards did to them at Oiran, it ain’t human. That’s the only reason I’m letting you step foot in my house.”

“I understand,” Steve grasped Nathan’s bicep and squeezed. “And I still appreciate it.”

Jensen waited until Steve was inside and extended his hand. “Captain Jensen Ackles.”

“Our mutual friend’s told me about you.” Nathan hesitantly took Jensen’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “He says you got yourself a Firefly class. I had one myself, Serenity. Best ships in the ‘Verse, no matter what some might say.”

Jensen nodded his agreement. “Persephone’s my baby. She’s always there when we need her.”

Nathan’s calculating stare was back on him, his expression serious. “Serenity was the only thing I ever owned that was all mine and I loved that ship. Captaining her was my whole life. Right up until I found something that I loved more than my life. _Nothing_ is more important to me than Sean. I’ll let y’all stay, give Beaver time to heal up your friend, but you bring any trouble our way or I feel you being here puts Sean in any kind of danger, I’ll hand you over to the Alliance myself.”

Jensen licked his lips, dipping his head once in acknowledgment, and headed inside.

 

*****

 

Milo settled Jared on the double bed in the back bedroom, the pale boy barely whimpering as he was laid down. Annie, Chris and Steve stood against the wall in an attempt to stay out of the way in the small room.

“Why don’t y’all wait outside?” Jensen suggested to the three silent sentinels. “I’m sure those wall will stay upright without you holding them up.”

They filed out, one after the other, with Annie taking up the rear and looking back one last time before leaving.

“He’s burning up.” Milo ran a hand over Jared’s sweaty brow. “He won’t make it much longer.”

“Let’s see what can be done to make sure that doesn’t happen,” a gruff voice floated over Jensen’s shoulder, making the captain jerk in surprise. “Excuse me,” a middle aged, red haired man slipped past him giving a tight nod of acknowledgment. Sean hovered in the doorway with Nathan an imposing shadow behind him. The ginger man came up short, his bearded mouth open in shock, when he noticed the figure on the bed. “Jared?”

Milo was up in an instant, standing toe-to-toe with the newcomer. “How do you know his name?” His venomous stare narrowed. “You’re…you’re one of _them_!” His hand shot out and grabbed the doctor by the throat, pushing him back until he was pinned to the wall.

Jensen took half a step forward, teetering. It wouldn’t take much for Milo to snap the man’s neck. He tried to ignore the sound of Nathan’s gun cocking and Sean’s terrified inhale.

“Yes,” the doctor croaked out, hands coming up to encircle Milo’s wrist. “I worked at Oiran,” he managed before the grip holding him tightened and stole his breath. “I can save him.” The words were mere whispers, more mouthed than spoken. Fingers scrambled against the restricting hand, tiny red gouges left in their wake, as the doctor struggled to breathe, face turning an alarming shade of red.

“Milo,” Jensen took another step closer, assessing and trying to find a way to diffuse the situation before Milo killed Jared’s only chance at survival or Nathan shot him.

The sound of his name drew that deadly glare toward Jensen. Those hazel orbs stared through him for a hard moment before a flitter of surprise passed over them. “You knew?” Milo growled. “You knew this bastard,” he shook the doctor, “worked for the ones that did this and you still brought him here? Jared trusted you.”

“You’re goram right I did. Don’t you get it? He _worked_ there. He knows what they did and how to cure it. Only three other consorts have ever escaped Oiran. Two died at trained medical facilities from the same thing Jared is suffering from.”

“And the third?”

Jensen was glad to see the fingers around the doctor’s throat slacken, Milo’s anger temporarily focused somewhere else. “He’s standing right there,” he pointed a finger at Sean, “and you’re about to kill the man who saved him.”

Jensen could see the words penetrate through the rage Milo had cloaked himself in and register with the younger man. He blinked at Sean who gave a confirming nod then released the pressure so the doctor could take a wheezy, gasping breath. “Is that true? Are you able to save my brother?”

Doubling over to put his hands on his knees, the doctor coughed and winced. “Yes.”

“You better be.” Milo took a few steps back, making way for the doctor to get close to Jared. Standing next to Jensen, eyes trained on the expert hands examining his brother, he murmured, “He turns us over to them, I will hunt you down and make you pay.”

Jensen relaxed slightly as the click of a hammer being eased back echoed in the small room. It would be a miracle if they all left with the same number of holes they had when they arrived.

“Don’t worry none about me turning you over,” the doctor muttered, fingers pressed to the inside of Jared’s wrist. “If I did that, I would be giving myself up as well and I’ve gone to great pains to keep Fabian and his lot from finding me.” Scowling, he pressed his hands to Jared’s stomach, moving them in small circles. “How long has he been gone?”

Jensen pursed his lips, thinking back over the days to remember how long it had been since they picked up the twins from Ceres. A week and a half? Two?

“Three weeks tomorrow,” Milo answered gruffly while Jensen was mentally calculating.

“Three weeks?” Disbelief heavily colored Beaver’s voice and his gaze snapped from the sick man on the bed to the surly twin.

“Yeah, three weeks,” Milo nodded. His face twitched and he tilted his head, Jensen understanding the signs of the man trying to glean something from a person’s mind.

The doctor’s eyes moved to Jensen seeking confirmation.

“If that’s what the man says.” Jensen shook his head slightly and shrugged. “He would know.” He could only verify the time they’d been on Persephone which he was now inclined to believe was a few days over two weeks.

Beaver’s face blanched and he returned his attention to Jared., hands working faster, finger frenetic in their explorations as he muttered under his breath. Seemingly satisfied with his physical assessment, he quickly snatched a brown leather bag from the side table and began rummaging through its depths.

“What’s the matter?” Jensen didn’t like the hurried element the doctor’s motions had taken. The rushed movements as he pulled a shiny scalpel and a set of forceps out made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Next to him, Milo gasped, his body rocking back into the support of the wall behind them and that broken look from the night before back on his face. Whatever he’d plucked from Beaver’s mind had apparently not been good news.

If Beaver thought there was anything strange about Milo’s behavior, he didn’t let on, just set the instruments on the table and began peeling the gauzy shirt from Jared’s torso.

“Doc?” Sean asked, meekly.

Slipping Jared’s arm from the sleeve, Beaver spared a glance at the two men haunting the doorway and Jensen swallowed at the grim expression on his face. “Nathan, why don’t you and Sean go see if those folks in the main room need anything?”

“Jim, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Nathan protested, eying the shock-paralyzed Milo.

Beaver pried his focused scrutiny from Jared to look at him. “Sean doesn’t need to be in here for this.”

Understanding, Nathan nodded. “Come on, Sean. Those people are probably hungry.” He carefully took Sean by the arm and led him away, closing the door quietly behind him.

Beaver watched them go. Licking his lips, hair lined mouth rolling with the movement, he gently, but methodically, palpated the now bared portion of Jared’s chest. “The deterrent Fabian favors is a time-released poison mixed with a powerful aphrodisiac.” He furrowed his brow and pressed against the skeletal prominence of Jared’s collarbone, fingers sliding down into the hollowed space above and below the bone. “The aphrodisiac ensures that the consort seeks out _company_ and the hefty reward Oiran offers when one escapes entices whoever they find to turn them back in.” He felt along Jared’s ribs on both sides.

“And the poison?” Jensen moved closer to the catatonic man beside him. Milo’s eyes were wide and vacant.

“In case the consort can resist their body’s urgings or they find someone sympathetic. Fabian would rather see them dead than free.”

Jensen didn’t understand. “You’re not telling us something we didn’t already know. There’s something else. What’s so important about the three weeks?”

Hand now on Jared’s shoulder and hip, the doctor efficiently rolled him onto his stomach. Jared groaned in protest, but made no other indication that he was awake or aware. “The poison compounds on itself, building each day. The longer its in a person’s system, the stronger its effects until it reaches maximum potency.” Beaver cupped Jared’s neck and slowly moved his hands down, thumbs feeling on either side of his spinal column.

“I think we’ve reached that point.” Jensen could see the sweat slickening Jared’s skin, the angry flush that seemed to cover every inch of him.

“Yes, but Jared should have reached it six days ago. The poison is designed to reach full effectiveness in fourteen days and I’ve never heard of anyone making it past twelve.” He stopped his probing of Jared’s left shoulder to look at Jensen. “I don’t know how he’s survived this long, but, for all intents and purposes, I should be examining a corpse right now.”

_The cyro-crate._

Jensen grabbed his head as the words reverberated off the inside of his skull like the clasper in a bell, echoing and vibrating. He looked over at Milo, the twin’s blank stare focused on his brother and a lost expression monopolizing his face. Shaking off the lingering ringing, he thought as clearly as he could of ways he’d get the other man back if he ever did that again. “Jared was in a cryo-crate for a couple of days. Would that have made a difference?”

“Cryo-crate?” Beaver’s brow quirked, sensitive pads rubbing circles down the length of Jared’s back on the left side.

Sensing the older man’s censure, Jensen held his hands up defensively. “Long story and not my doing. Could it be why he’s made it this long?”

“It’s a very good possibility,” the doctor answered absently, concentrating on a small place just above Jared’s right shoulder blade. “Come on,” he hummed under his breath. “Come on. There you are, you little booger-bear.” Keeping a finger on Jared’s skin, he leaned over to grab the scalpel off the table. “Come here,” he motioned Jensen over with his chin, “and bring socially awkward.”

Jensen grabbed Milo by the arm, intent on guiding him to the bed, but the contact seemed to rouse the other man from his trance. Pulling his arm away, Milo moved to the side of the bed opposite the doctor while Jensen came over to stand beside the physician.

“Hold him.” Beaver gestured at Jared’s body with the scalpel. “I don’t have time to dope him and he’s likely to jerk once I start.” Assuming that they would take his instruction, he moved his finger around, feeling something under the skin.

Milo carefully turned Jared’s head to face him and placed a restraining hand at the base of his skull, firmly holding it to the pillow below. His other arm pressed down over Jared’s left shoulder, his body leaning forward to lend weight to the hold.

Once Milo was in place, Jensen draped his torso across the middle of Jared’s back, preventing him from bucking up. His right hand wrapped around the frame of the bed next to Milo’s hip for leverage and his left curled over Jared’s right wrist, pinning it to the mattress.

“You got ‘im good?” Beaver asked, the sharp instrument hovering just above Jared’s back. “I don’t want to hurt him more than we have to.”

Both men nodded.

“Hold him!” Beaver warned, pushing his own body into the man and the scalpel into skin. Blood welled up immediately, filling the incision and running in rivulets down and across Jared’s back. Undeterred, the blade moved with precision, deepening the wound and making it bigger.

Jared’s head came up off the pillow, Milo’s grip slackening in the face of his brother’s blood staining the sleeve of his shirt. Gathering himself, he pushed it back down and lowered his head to Jared’s ear, soothing whispers lost over the pulse pounding in Jensen’s ears.

One of Beaver’s fingers delved into the cut, testing the depth, before he dropped the scalpel to the ground. A bloodied hand moved to the table and grabbed the forceps, the tips disappearing into Jared’s body.

Jensen could see the ends moving, rotating and twisting, as they sought out whatever Beaver believed to be hidden beneath the skin and muscle and Jared jolted hard. Jensen held him tighter, forehead resting against Jared’s side. He felt his gorge rise at the squelching sounds and the feel of metallic scented warmth seeping into the fabric at his side, but held it at bay.

There was a triumphant exhale and Jensen lifted his head to see Beaver withdraw the forceps, a small sphere clutched at the end. “Got it,” the doctor smiled. It died quickly when Jared began to convulse beneath them, his body jumping and writhing like he’d been touched with an electric current. The forceps fell, landing on the ground with a soft thud, and Beaver dug through his bag again, coming up this time with a vial and syringe. Green liquid was swiftly drawn up and the needle plunged deep into the red-stained skin of Jared’s arm. The jerking slowed before gradually stopping, the prone man’s body laying lax against the mattress.

Beaver scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed, fingers leaving a red streak across his cheek. “You can let him go now.”

Jensen and Milo released Jared, sitting up and surveying the damage, while Beaver threaded a needle to start on the sutures needed to stitch up his handiwork. A three inch line of red marred the skin of Jared’s upper back, a puddle of blood preventing them from seeing the muscle that was sliced to achieve the necessary depth. Milo ran a hand through Jared’s tangled locks. “I’ll get something to clean him up.” He stood and left the room, stripping out of his shirt and throwing it in the garbage can by the door on his way out.

Beaver nodded and pushed the needle into the skin along the cut. Jensen looked away, unable to bear witness to more pain inflicted on Jared. The forceps were on the ground next to his knee and he picked them up, turning them this way and that to get a better look at the globe in their clutch. “This was what was making him so sick?”

“Yep,” Beaver didn’t lift his head from his work. “They implant them on a new recruit’s first day. Usually it’s under the collar bone or in the armpit. Scapula was a surprising change. Almost didn’t find it.”

“It’s so small,” he marveled out loud, mind trying to reconcile something that could have fit in his thumbnail twice over causing so much pain.

“So are the tree frogs on Patagonia, but one touch will kill you dead.” His bushy mustache twitched in amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that size don’t matter, boy?”

“How is he?” Milo walked over to the bed, a metal basin full of lightly steaming water held against his hip.

“Don’t know yet.” Tying off the last suture, the doctor sat back on his heels and picked the scalpel up off the floor. “The poison is out, but I have no way of knowing how much of its floating around his system or what changes were brought on by the cryo-crate.” He scowled at Milo at the mention of the crate. “Like I said before, you should be sitting vigil around a body right now.”

“When will we know?” Milo set the basin on the ground, his hand resting lightly on Jared’s back. He couldn’t repress the sigh of relief when his brother didn’t flinch away from the touch.

Beaver ran a hand over Jared’s head, the gesture catching Jensen as surprisingly affectionate. “If he doesn’t wake up by tomorrow, I fear he might not at all.”

Milo swallowed, nodding, eyes trained on his brother. Jared’s mind was still a jumble, but some of the haze that had clouded his thoughts seemed to be thinning. Through the obscuring fog, he could make out the image of his own face, as well as, the captain’s like Jared knew they were near. Milo couldn’t help the small tickle of hope in his chest.

The doctor stood, groaning at the grating bone sound in his knees. He gathered up his instruments, taking the forceps from Jensen, and his bag and stiffly made his way to the door.

“Thanks, doc.” Jensen knew the words were inadequate, but felt that someone needed to express some kind of gratitude toward this man. There was no guarantee that Jared would make it, but at least now he had a fighting chance.

The weathered face considered Jared for a minute. “I knew Jared when he was at Oiran. He was a sweet kid.” Again, Jensen was struck by the older man’s fond regard of the boy on the bed. “He didn’t deserve what they did to him there.” He nodded, solemnly, the door snicking quietly and leaving the two men alone with Jared.

Milo dipped a washcloth in the basin and offered it to Jensen. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Jensen took the rag and started cleaning the dried blood from Jared skin, careful to keep the bandage covering the incision dry. Milo soaked another cloth and wiped away large swatches of red. They worked in silence, the only sounds in the room the rhythmic in and out of their breathing and the wringing of the cloths as both men lost themselves in the care they were providing.

As the water in the basin turned pink, Milo glanced up. “Thank you, Captain.”

The corner of Jensen’s mouth quirked up. “No need. Just don’t ever talk in my head again.”

“Agreed.”

 

 

 


End file.
